


When Clara Met Rose

by BurningUpASunJustToSayHello



Series: Twisted Verse [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Like the weakest type of smut ever written, Paradox, Romance, So much drama its like Grey's Anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningUpASunJustToSayHello/pseuds/BurningUpASunJustToSayHello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When traveling with the Doctor, nothing is ever simple but when the Doctor takes Rose to a gala on Satellite 8 neither of them expected to have a grim run-in with their future. Nor did their future expect to meet such a questionable past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was a sense of joy when the Doctor asked Rose where she wanted to go that morning, “Well there is Barcelona—oh maybe the pleasure planet of Midnight,” he strode around the Consul Room, rambling on and flipping switches. Rose stood by the jump seat, barely listening to the endless list of planets and times; sometimes when you get the Doctor going you really just have to go along with it, thought Rose. She lazily wondered over to the consul and leaned over thousands of buttons and switches until the Doctor finally finished his spiel. 

“So, anywhere in particular that you wanted to see?” he asked suddenly with a puppy-like smile on his face. Rose flashed a small smile and stretched over the consul further to get a better view of her counterpart. 

“Mm, how about a party? I mean—don’t get me wrong I love the perilous journey kind of day but, I’m still a bit worn out from that last trip,” she said and thought back to their recent journey to Woman Wept where they had run into a spot of trouble when some idiot tried to unfreeze the frozen ocean. The Doctor’s grin shown brighter and his eyes twinkled with utter glee. A lever flipped down and the familiar sound of the TARDIS flying through the time vortex filled the room and began to shake the walls. They both laughed and grabbed onto the nearest stable thing before being flung back onto the metal floor. A chorus of laughs filled in the now silent room. The Doctor sprang up, pulling Rose up with him. “Here we are, a gala on Satellite 8 in the 25th century for the new human colony on Clom!” he explained, “Now, Rose, the wardrobe—do you remember where it is because you are certainly not going out in that.” The Doctor’s brown eyes scanned Rose’s current outfit of regular blue jeans and a white sweater. She folded her arms across her chest and turned toward the Time Lord in mock offense.

“Doctor, do you recall what I mentioned to you when we visited the Queen?” His face immediately changed to one of regret. 

“I’m being rude again, aren’t I?” Rose nodded and slipped off to change into something a little more appropriate for the occasion. She swept past the Doctor and drew up another smile that softened the blow. 

Rose rounded endless corners and hallways before reaching the vast room known as the wardrobe. It was strewn with multiple items of clothing like a black tie here and a ridiculously long scarf there with a question mark umbrella tucked in the corner. Further towards the back was a collection of dresses and period women’s clothing for whomever or whenever they were needed. Rose rummaged through the more modern dresses looking for the right one. There was a pretty robin’s egg blue dress that looked like an evening gown from the 18th century next to a black beaded dress that would belong with an era of swing music. 

In the back, however; after ten minutes of rifling through her choices, Rose found a simple midnight blue floor length dress. It had silvery stars sewn into the neckline and clustered around the slit that ran up the right side. It was simply perfect for the occasion. Rose tugged it off the rack and checked its’ size and sighed. Six—score, that was her size! She hurriedly untied her old sneakers, stripped off her jeans and sweater, and threw on the garment. After a closer look in the mirror Rose quickly put her hair into a reasonably simple knot with a silver clip that was hanging on the hanger with the dress. Now if only she could find the right shoes, Rose wondered. She had thought the shoes were in the back—ah there they were! In the back was a shelf full of heels in a rainbow of shades. Rose spied a pair of stiletto heels the almost exact same shade of her dress. Taking them in her left hand, Rose trotted back to her room to hastily redo her makeup and slip on her shoes. 

When Rose made her way back to the Consul Room to find a shocking sight waiting for her; the Doctor was right where she left him but instead of his normal pinstriped suit was a pristine black tuxedo.   
*~*  
The Doctor turned at the sound of Rose’s gunshot footsteps and at the sight of her, his face lit up. Rose held up her hands, “Don’t laugh, I know what you’re thinking, Doctor,” she giggled out. The Doctor made a sound of appalment. 

“You look brilliant!” he shouted and spread his arms out for a hug. Rose clicked as quickly as she could and let him wrap his arms around her in a tight embrace. A squeak escaped her throat as the tips of her toes were lifted off the ground. The Doctor gently set her back on the ground and pulled away to look at her outfit choice. The dress was lovely, although he couldn’t recall where it had come from; Rose’s hair looked absolutely wonderful put up with the sparkly silver clip. 

Soft hands fixing his bow-tie pulled him out of his trance. The Doctor glanced down at Rose straightening out the piece of fabric. She glanced up shyly and pulled away, “Sorry I—it just was a bit crooked.” He grinned down at her. 

“It’s not a problem, are you ready to go to the party, Dame Rose?” The Doctor held out his arm. Rose returned his grin and looped her arm through his. “Sure am, Sir Doctor,” came the reply. 

They pulled open the door to the TARDIS and stepped out into a white washed hallway. It seemed normal considering the Doctor would have enough common sense to park them a little ways from the party so as not to attract any unwanted attention. The couple rounded the right hand corridor to reveal an elegant room with massive draped windows. Neatly dressed servers in black and white wound around the throngs of gala guests with champagne and a polite smile. In one corner of the room a black grand piano sat with a violet skinned woman tinkling at the ivory keys. The guests were dressed like Rose and the Doctor and were in different groups chatting and laughing under the large chandelier. 

“Wow this is…magnificent,” Rose breathed. She released her grip on the Doctor and spun around in a tight circle to take in the full glory of her surroundings. “How did you ever get us into this?” Rose said in awe. 

“Isn’t it great?” the Doctor agreed with her before continuing on. “I just flashed my credentials: John Smith and a plus one.” “Now,” he changed the subject, “The woman playing the piano over there is Miss Lidia Raxacolumbus De Leo. She is the best pianist in the galaxy as of right now—and we get to hear her play. Isn’t that just brilliant?” he asked enthusiastically. Rose shot an amused look in his direction. He was definitely enjoying being here. 

“Always wanted to play piano,” she mussed, “Never had the attention span for it though. I hated practicing so I never got very good. Luckily it was one Mum’s friends trying to give me lessons so she wasn’t that upset when I quit; half of the reason was that we would hang around for tea and they would talk for hours. ” Rose made a face, “It was so boring.” 

The Doctor swiped two glasses of champagne off of a server tray and handed one to Rose as she finished. They both took a sip before continuing their conversation. “Well I know for a fact that her performances are not boring,” the Doctor stated matter-of-factly. So as to make his point the pianist trailed up the keys at a lighting speed, the last chord echoing into the next melody. She performed a new song with a feverish tempo that didn’t seem to match the gala atmosphere but, somehow found a home among the dull roar of conversation going on around the piano. When the tune reached its climax a sinister note boomed out silencing the room with a dull ring. The Doctor saw Rose clapping with the rest of the party guests, enticed that the violet woman could get such a sound out of an instrument like that. 

The Doctor peered at Rose’s gaping expression from around his glass and waited for the shock to wear off. 

“Good, yeah?” he said taking another sip of champagne. She nodded and just stared dumbstruck. The Doctor tugged on her hand before taking a step towards the piano, “Let’s go say hello, Rose,” her friend uttered in a cheery, almost chipper voice. They walked hand in hand over to where the famous pianist was shuffling through sheet music and taking a sip from a glass of water that rested on top of the black wood. The woman turned towards them at the sight of their destination. 

“’Allo, I’m the Doctor and this is Rose,” the Doctor announced to her and stuck a hand out the shake while Rose curtseyed with a polite smile and a hello. Lidia took the Time Lord’s hand and shook it firmly. The Doctor continued on, “We wanted to complement you on your lovely playing tonight Miss Raxacolumbus De Leo.” The violet woman smiled kindly, 

“Thank you, are you enjoying the gala?” she inquired. Rose felt like the question was directed to her. “Yeah, the gala is fantastic and your music is great,” she answered. Lidia’s smile broadened and excused herself soon after to return to playing. Rose and the Doctor wondered around the room for a while longer before Rose turned to him. “I’ll be right back, I want to go check my makeup, ‘kay,” Rose whispered. He took her champagne from her and told her to hurry back before turning to the nearest group and listening in on their conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

Then was a quiet knocking that quickly turned to pounding on Clara’s door. 

“Clara, wake up!” The Doctor’s whiny voice carried through her door. 

Clara sprang from her bed, throwing the covers almost entirely off the mattress and rushed to the door and flung it open angrily. “Doctor, it is seven in the morning this had better be important!” she bit out at him. He hopped from foot to foot and ran a hand over his chin and glanced up at her with his big sad eyes. “You said yesterday that you wanted a party—so I found a party for us to attend,” he flapped his hands around, “Well I say party, I really mean gala on Satellite 8 in the 25th century. I never understood how or why a gala could be different than a party; perhaps one is fancier than the other—” The excited Time Lord droned on as Clara gave into sleep and slumped against her door for support. 

He was jumbled out of his spiel when the Doctor heard a snore. The door was slowly giving under her weight and he saw Clara slip. Scrambling to catch her dozing form, she woke up with a startled yell. After collapsing against her friend’s chest, Clara finally met his gaze. 

”Doctor,” she started slowly, “A gala would be nice but do you…I don’t know…know what time –Earth time—it happens to be?” She felt the Doctor loosen his grip on her forearms and even more confusion coloring his features. 

“Not the slightest why?” he inquired innocently. Clara gave him a thin smile. 

“It’s seven in the morning,” she seethed. 

The Doctor dropped his hold on her making Clara stumble. He glanced at his wristwatch on the inside of his wrist and turned back to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “So it is, I know it’s not the most regular time for a party, I mean gala, but it’s a gala what is not great about galas?” he complained. 

Clara crossed her arms over her pajama shirt, lifted a brow, and waited for the Doctor to get the rest of the picture. Sometimes he was so thick, she thought, He finally took the liberty to look down at her when he heard no reply. 

Finally his eyes travel back up to hers, “It’s seven in the morning…” the Time Lord drew on indifferently. He tilted his head and willed the companion to continue. She sighed. “And I went to sleep at three. I would really like more sleep.” The Doctor slid his hands off her shoulders with a soft ‘oh’. His lanky form started down the hall like a kicked puppy. Clara called after him. “When I wake up we’ll go, okay Doctor?” 

She shut her door with a solid sound; trudged back to her bed, readjusted her covers again, and slipped off into a dreamless sleep. She woke another four hours later to the calming hum of the TARDIS and blissfully absent of the sound of the Doctor banging on her door. Clara slowly made her way to the adjoining bathroom and took a quick shower. The warm water was a comfort and she welcomed its careful massaging on her skin. Once she was done and had toweled off, the brunette threw on one of her favorite red dresses with a black collar then she headed towards the Consul Room. 

There she found the Doctor pacing around the consul, occasionally reading something off the monitor. As her friend rounded around the edge of the consul, he saw her and happily sprang to a stop. “So now you ready to go to the gala?” he asked patiently, clasping his hands together. Clara glanced down at her outfit, checking to make sure everything was in place—yes all there, she thought. “Um, yes?” she glanced down again, “—actually no, can we stop by my house so I can pick up something nicer?” she answered, unsure of what to say. 

“Oh, that’s right,” he exclaimed, “Formal event, I forgot!” The Time Lord gave her a gleeful grin, “But no you don’t! The wardrobe is down that hall, take a left then another left, right and then the door should be on the left. It has clothing from almost all the eras in time, I’m sure you can find something in there. “Just think your choices could be between a Victorian dress and an American style 20’s flapper outfit or maybe even something recent,” the Doctor grinned brighter, “Imagine the possibilities, Clara!” 

Clara smiled at his outburst and began to walk off in the direction he had told her. “Wait. Doctor what do you mean, should be?” she questioned turning back to him. He glanced up from the monitor absently. 

“What I mean is the TARDIS likes to move rooms,” the Doctor gave the machine a friendly pat. 

With a weird look shot in his direction, the woman started back down the hall. She followed his directions precisely and found the room with almost ease. Maybe the box was finally warming up to her. Clara grinned slyly at the thought. 

She turned the doorknob and walked into a large room filled with mountains of clothes. There was a battered brown trench coat on a hook here and a maroon jumper flung out on the floor in front of her and some rather…feminine shoes. In fact they were women’s shoes, as Clara examined them further; tall black boots with a sturdy heel. In fact, the entire back section was filled with women’s clothing. Clara wondered where the Doctor found the time to collect so many articles of clothing—especially the women’s. Then she recalled that he had been about 1113 and rethought her statement; who knew, maybe Time Lords could change their gender or something. She shrugged off the mindset and picked through her options. 

The curtain of dresses was parted to reveal a nice simple black dress next to a rather eccentric and skimpy green cocktail dress. On her right was a pretty floral themed periwinkle sweet-heart dress with a full skirt. Her stomach lurched at its gaudiness and firmly pushed past the periwinkle monstrosity to find a flowing knee length bright red dress. To the companion it was both simple and magnificent; she tugged it off of its hanger and pulled off her own dress to replace it with the new one. As it settled at her knees the soft fabric surprisingly seemed to fit just fine. 

“Oh,” she breathed in shock, beaming at how it fit in the full sized mirror. After deciding that it would be far too warm and informal, she chose to leave her legs bare. Instead Clara searched for a nice pair of shoes to go along with the red dress. 

Along the back wall were shelves chocked full of different styles, colors, and eras of shoes. Going to the more modern types, Clara browsed until she found an entire row dedicated to red shoes. 

There she hunted for a pair of minimalist red flats. The light reflected off of their shiny material and Clara snatched them from their place on the shelf. Praying that they would fit; she slipped them on. The shoes were only a little big. 

After finding a few bobby pins on a small table by the mirror she swirled her hair in a sensible, but loose, bun. After checking her makeup—which she decided didn’t need correcting—she headed out, grabbing a small purse to put her phone and emergency makeup inside. Just in case. 

She quickly made her way back to the Consul Room where she had left the Doctor fifteen minutes before. As Clara caught sight of him, she missed her step and nearly fell down the stairs. Standing there, adjusting his bow-tie to perfection was the Doctor…in a tuxedo. 

“Doctor, why are you wearing…” she made a gesture to his outfit. He strode over to her on his long legs. “Don’t you like it? And look I can still wear my bow-tie,” as if to make his point, he reached up to straighten it once more, “I wear a black bow-tie now—black bow-ties are cool!” Clara fiddled with her purse, unsure of what to say and then began to giggle. 

“Whatever you say,” she managed out. 

Finished with his bow-tie he held out his arm to her and she took it. The Doctor pulled open the TARDIS door and out into the gala. She heard him mummer a ‘Geronimo’ as the doors shut behind them. 

Clara gasped, it was beautifully decorated in shades of clean whites; the only other color was a black piano with a violet skinned woman playing a complicated melody and the other party guests’ clothing. The waiting staff wound around said guests in pressed black and white outfits with trays laden with champagne. “Pretty cool right?” the Doctor asked her. She turned her head, beaming. 

“Yeah this is great.” Clara craned her neck in all directions to take the whole scene in. 

“Don’t try to do that, you’ll only hurt yourself. Just take it in stride,” he replied to her action as they walked around the exterior of the room. The Doctor eventually gently took two glasses of champagne from a tray and passed one to her. 

“I thought you didn’t like stuff like this,” whispered Clara, swilling the alcohol around in the glass. The Time Lord scoffed. “Clara I am 1113 years old, I love champagne,” he said before taking a swig of the yellow drink. As quickly as it had been thrown back, the Doctor turned away and spit it back in his glass. “I suppose not,” was his only explanation while Clara just gave him knowing look. 

The duo wondered around a little while longer; milling in between conversations and later stealing another glass of champagne for Clara. They were gazing out the window at the stars when their calm silence broke by piano music gracing the air after a brief break. 

“You know,” began the Doctor, his ‘ramble’ voice switching on, “The magnificent pianist playing at the moment is Lidia Raxacolumbus De Leo, the best in the galaxy. She can play and master more melodies than anyone in this solar system and we’re listening to her play—isn’t it just marvelous?” Clara snickered at the sudden outburst. “That’s very interesting.” The Doctor turned to look at her sharply before pouting. 

“What, it is! It’s exciting,” his voice tapered off weakly. 

Clara glanced back to where to woman was playing more softly now. “Why is she purple? Not to be rude but, she’s purple.” She turned back to her friend as he threw his hands up. 

“Clara does it matter that her skin is a different color? She plays brilliantly I think that’s all that matters,” he uttered. Clara blinked, slightly taken aback. “I suppose not.” 

The Doctor’s face melted into a pitying look and took a breath, “Lidia is from a planet that has three suns so her people adapted which turns their skin and hair odd colors.” After falling into a silence, Clara finally spoke up, “Oh…okay. I guess that makes sense. You’re right though, she plays beautifully.” She nodded her head to further make her point. “Maybe we can meet her later.” 

The pair stared off into space—literally space—once more. The companion caught a glimpse of herself in the window reflection; her lipstick was smeared slightly to the right side. Now that was embarrassing, she’d better go fix that. With a hand over her blemish, she touched the Doctor’s shoulder lightly, “I’ll be right back I’m going to go fix my makeup,” she said as she walked off. He called after her. 

“Alright, take as long as you need.”


	3. Chapter 3

Rose made her way to the ladies room quickly. She rounded a short hallway that lead to the bathroom and pushed lightly on the door with her shoulder as she pulled out her mascara. There were only a few other women in the room with her and many were doing to the same thing as her. 

The room was probably nicer than any bathroom she’d ever been in. The cream colored walls warmly glowed with bright yellow lights. There was a place for coats and scarves as well as a small bench in the corner. It was very overdone, Rose thought. 

She made her way to an open space in front of the sinks that stood in front of the large wall mirror. Rose gazed in the mirror and opened her eyes wider to see if there was anything smudged. She found that the eyeliner had smeared off a bit so she dug around in her purse and pulled out a thin tube of black eyeliner. As Rose redid the thick line, the other women had left and a dark-haired woman had come in their place. Rose glanced at her while still attempting to fix her own makeup. The new woman wore a deep red gown that was a stark contrast to her dark brunette hair and eyes. She was carefully wiping smeared red lipstick off the corner of her mouth with a paper towel. It made Rose wonder if the smudge had been from kissing someone. 

“Um, sorry but did you want something better?” Rose asked her and rummaged around her purse until she found a makeup remover cloth. She held it out to the other woman. The woman took it with a relieved smile. 

“Thanks,” she answered. Rose turned away from her reflection to face the latter. 

“I’m Rose, by the way,” she began. The dark-haired woman turned her attention away from her lipstick with another small smile. “I’m Clara; nice to meet you Rose.” 

Clara turned back to her makeup, “Do you like the gala? I’m here with a friend of mine and he seems ecstatic about the pianist—Lidia I believe that’s what her name was. If I didn’t know better I would say he has a crush on her,” she drew on, seemingly attempting to break the awkward silence. Rose snickered at her friend’s antics thinking of the Doctor. 

“Yeah I love it, it’s great. Your friend sounds like mine then, all ‘Rose let’s go meet her’ and ‘Isn’t she just great, Rose?’ he is,” Rose mocked in her best impression of the Doctor, “I bet your friend would get along with mine. How about you, do you like it?” 

Clara finished her reapplying her lipstick before speaking, “Yep, I like it. A little different than what I expected, though. I told him a party would be nice change and I thought this gala was going to be something—I don’t know a little more upbeat. But you know, a party is a party right?” she let a little laugh escape her lips. Then threw the makeup remover towel away and turned back to her new friend,

“Thanks for the makeup remover, by the way.” Rose shrugged and muttered, 

“You’re welcome it’s no trouble, really.” 

The women exited the bathroom and continued to talk about their companions and themselves as they walked back to the gala. Clara was curious about Rose and Rose couldn’t put her finger on what was off about her. Well not really “off” per-say but, just…a bit different was all. An odd feeling stirred in her stomach. “I don’t mean to pry Rose but, have you got anyone; like a bloke or something? I swear you seem so familiar,” Clara ventured. Rose turned pink under her foundation and smiled brightly. 

“I don’t know what he would say about it—but yeah the bloke I’m here with,” Rose hesitated and remembered that the Doctor had used his fake name; “John Smith is his name. He has great hair.” Clara smirked at the other’s swooning. 

“And you; you got anyone?” Rose politely asked, not wanting to be rude. Clara’s breath seemed to catch. “No, not really,” she said wistfully. Rose nodded absentmindedly, suspecting that wasn’t the case. They walked through the crowd of gala guests and were heading for the Doctor. Clara pointed at him, “I suppose that’s John then, the hair is a giveaway.” 

Rose grinned at the sight of him, still holding her glass of champagne. The Doctor caught sight at the two of them and raised his left hand in greeting. “Welcome back,” he said happily handing Rose’s glass back to her. 

“John,” Rose touched his shoulder, “This is Clara.” Clara held out her hand to shake and the Doctor took it. “I’m John Smith; it’s pleasure to meet you Clara,” the Doctor answered. 

Rose took the Doctor’s hand, “Clara says she thinks you and her friend would get along. We’re going to go meet him, do you want to come with us?” “Sure, why not,” he grinned and announced to Clara to lead the way. Clara returned his grin with a small smile of her own and began to walk towards the large set of windows at the front of the room. While they made their way over, the Doctor leaned over the whisper in Rose’s ear, his breath tickling her skin.” Someone who arrived late is radiating a telepathic connection.” 

Rose leaned up to reply, “Is that bad?” The Doctor shrugged and shook his head. 

“Not necessarily,” he stated, “I just didn’t suspect to find a telepath at this type of gala but, ah well, not going to ruin anything.” Clara broke their personal conversation with a question Rose missed. Thankfully the Doctor had caught it and replied smoothly. They continued making pleasant conversation until the eventually stopped in front of a silhouetted figure staring out at the stars. Clara went and tapped the figure lightly on the shoulder. The man spun quickly on his heel before exclaiming, “Clara, good to see you back!” Clara’s friend caught her in a tight hug. Rose felt embarrassed watching so she let her gaze linger on the Doctor, who narrowed his eyes into what Rose called his thinking face. Apparently the Doctor also picked up on the subtext, Rose thought. 

“Oh, and this is Rose and John,” Clara’s voice brought her back to the man. He was lanky, like the Doctor, with floppy brown hair and cheery green eyes. At the mention of their introduction, however; his face contorted into an unreadable mask. 

“Nice, to meet you both,” he said quietly. 

Clara seemed not to notice anything wrong and continued as the three shook hands, “Rose and John, this is my friend the Doctor.” At the sound of his name, Rose’s heart skipped a beat. This couldn’t possibly be the Doctor, she thought. This regeneration was so young. Where was she? What had happened to her? She squeezed her Doctor’s hand tighter, noticing the tension that had worked its way into his stance. 

“So what did you say the Doctor did, Clara? It’s obvious he’s a doctor but, a doctor in what? ” Rose prompted stiffly, trying to pull off the wave of shock. A troubled look came across the other woman’s face as if she didn’t know how to answer. 

“Oh, uh, no he’s not a doctor actually. The Doctor is more a nickname. We just travel around, really,” she finally got out. Rose inwardly flinched at the awful truth. Her eyes started to mist over at all of the reasons why he had regenerated and where she had gone. Rose blinked her golden eyes to keep the tears forming in them from spilling over. “So what do you do John? Rose didn’t get time to mention anything,” Clara asked slowly. Did she notice her crying? Rose wondered. Her Doctor released her hand and opted wrapping it around her waist instead, trying to offer her comfort. 

“I’m an actual doctor, got my degree in astrophysics,” the Doctor said, finally answering. Whatever was going to be said next was cut off by the sounds of shattering glass and screaming guests.

The group turned toward the sudden noise and Rose briefly forgot all about the other Doctor. 

There were rhino-like aliens dressed in black armored suits pouring into the room. They spoke in a language the TARDIS didn’t seem to be able to translate and were tearing through the masses of people. The aliens were obviously making an unplanned appearance and were looking for something specific. Rose’s grip on the Doctor tightened. “If the Shadow Proclamation were here this couldn’t be good, we need to leave now!” her Doctor shouted. The officers pinned guests to the white tile and seemed to rifle through their clothing.

“Run!” both men yelled in unison. The future Doctor grabbed Clara’s hand as the group sprinted off. 

“Who is the Shadow Proclamation?” Rose thought she heard Clara shout over the noise. She only heard bits of the reply and tried to keep up with the Doctor, who had a firm grip on her hand. Two officers ran towards them to block their path. Rose started to panic; she was going too fast and wouldn’t be able to evade them. The Doctor jerked Rose harshly to his side and miraculously missed one of the officers by a mere inch. When Rose’s feet slammed into the ground, one of her blue heels broke and she stumbled. “Kick them off, Rose. I can always get more!” she heard him yell to her. 

Rose quickly discarded the shoes and ran barefoot across the cold floor and regained her footing. At least she could run faster now that she didn’t have to worry about breaking her ankles. Rose stole a glance back at Clara and the supposed other Doctor. 

“Clara, I have to let go of you!” she heard the other Doctor say as he hastily released Clara’s hand. She quickly realized why he her let go. The entire force—if they’re even called a force— that they had evaded before were stampeding towards them; Clara tried to made a dive under their meaty arms and out of their grip but, the officer had grabbed the skirt of her dress and was slowly pulling her back in. Rose’s heart leapt to her throat. She watched in horror as the Doctor drug her along as Clara struggled and she thought she heard a rip as Clara was pulled free of the officer’s grasp. She breathed a sigh of relief. No damage except a ripped dress. 

Rose looked further back to look for the other Doctor and saw him slipping between two of the five. The back of his tuxedo jacket caught on their amour, causing him to catch and become trapped. The other Doctor hastily attempted to undue the button as the officer he was caught on turned and gave a bellow and reached for his prisoner wildly. Just as his fist closed, the other Doctor broke free of the jacket and took off once more. He motioned for Clara to hurry on without him. 

The Doctor and Rose ran to the small side hallway where the TARDIS was parked and raced to make it until a shot rang out. She heard the other Doctor cry out and Rose quickly spun with the Doctor to see the other Doctor stumble and slide on the tiles. Her pulse thundering, she watched Clara spring back to pick him up. He jerked to his feet and hissed in pain as his right leg attempted to stabilize the rest of his body. Clara and the other Doctor looped an arm over each other and hobbled as quickly as they to where Rose and the Doctor had stopped in their tracks. 

“Clara I think they shattered my ankle!” the Doctor yelled in Clara’s ear as they pulled into Rose’s earshot. 

There the TARDIS stood, its’ doors flung open wide. Once Rose was sure they were going to make it, she allowed the Doctor to half-drag her through into the safety of the Consul Room. Rose quickly turned back to ensure Clara and the other Doctor’s safety. The duo half-slid-half-collapsed in the doorway and heard the doors shut with a snap. Clara and the Doctor just lied in a heap on the sacred floor panting and trying to catch their breath. Clara was still looking at the door but the door seemed to startle her. “Doctor where are we? This TARDIS…it’s not yours,” Clara said slowly. 

“No, it’s mine,” the Doctor said, hovering above the woman. She squinted up at him shakily. Rose didn’t blame her for being a little shaken up. Clara tried to speak, “John w—” she was cut off by the Doctor’s familiar rudeness. 

“I’m not John by the way, I’m the Doctor,” he said curtly. He held out a hand to her and Clara helped herself up. 

“If you really are the Doctor than how are you there?” she asked shakily and pointed to where the other Doctor lay on the TARDIS floor. Rose could see the deep red spot spreading across the bottom of his pant leg. 

Rose peered from behind the center consul and finally walked over to the rest of the group. 

“Um well you see, Clara, Time Lords have this way of sort of cheating death. It’s called regeneration; where every cell of their body dies and they become someone completely new.” She carefully explained. 

Clara nodded, “So he…is you then?” she asked the Doctor. He nodded and turned his attention to the other Doctor. “Technically a future me, anyways where was he shot?” he asked and bent down to get a better look. 

“I think he said something about his ankle being shattered—the right one,” Clara bent down with the Doctor and brushed the other Doctor’s hair out of his face. Rose stood patiently waiting while the Doctor took out his sonic. He scanned his leg and read the reading. He slipped on a pair of medium rimmed glasses out of an inside pocket and slid them on making her grin. Rose loved his brainy specs. 

“The bone is shattered in five different pieces. All it needs is a wrap and it’ll heal on its’ own,” the Doctor turned towards Clara with a grin, “Superior Time Lord Biology, isn’t it great?” 

“Why is he unconscious then, Doctor?” asked Rose. The Doctor stood back up and stuffed his glasses back into his interior pocket. “Well, the easiest way to explain it is that sleep is the best medicine. It’s similar to a healing coma—what happened when I regenerated on Christmas.” He explained professionally. “Would you help me carry him, Rose?” He reached down and gently slung an arm around his future self’s shoulder. Rose scrambled to loop an arm on the other side. “Do you need me to help with anything? I could get the infirmary door for you,” Clara piped up from behind them. She could tell Clara felt like a third wheel compared to her and the Doctor. Clara followed the Doctor and Rose down the main corridor and to the infirmary door. She numbly held it open while the other Doctor was carefully drug in and sat on an examination table. 

“Is this what it’s like picking me up all the time?” Rose grunted as she tried to pull the future Doctor onto the table. Thinking of all the times they had hugged and he had picked her up off her feet. 

“Blimey, no, at least you’re a little lighter!” the Doctor answered tightly. With one final push, they successfully had him pushed up on the shiny aluminum table. They both slumped against the cold metal, trying to catch their breath. 

The Doctor huffed, “Okay, Clara,” he took another breath, “Hand me that wrap cloth behind you.” He pointed vaguely in the general area where Clara stood. Clara turned to grab whatever it was that he was pointing out and handed it to the Doctor. The Time Lord cut his future self’s shoe from the swollen foot and pulled off the sock. Rose felt her stomach twist when she saw his blood leaking from the wound. She watched as the Doctor carefully swabbed out the wound. Then he took a pair of tweezers, fishing around the gaping hole. Rose felt the champagne rise up her throat. Finally the Doctor solemnly retracted the tweezers with the bullet in tow. He bound the purple and blue mass in the tan cloth securely before turning back to the two other women in the room. 

“Tea?” he asked them. Clara smiled gratefully and Rose nodded giving a smile bright as the sun. He held out a hand to Rose and wiggled his fingers expectantly. She took it and the trio walked to the kitchen. Clara walked behind the two. 

“Will he be alright if we leave him there? I mean, I don’t want him to get confused,” she called up to the Doctor. He waved his free hand, “Oh, he’ll be fine, if you want you can skip tea and sit with him if it makes you feel better.” His voice echoed down back to her. They came to the kitchen door, which was slightly open. As she walked in, Rose watched Clara. 

“Bit different?” Rose asked. Clara stole a glance her way. 

“I’m trying not to be overwhelmed by how different it looks compared to my Doctor’s kitchen.” She said. 

Rose glanced around and shrugged. The entire room was done in a small diner-like set up complete with a bar and vinyl booths. There were blue painted cabinets and shelves littering the walls filled with dishes and canned goods and a refrigerator most likely filled to the brim. 

“It’s a big change from the kitchen I’ve become accustomed to lately, all modern and new with granite countertops.” Clara added and paused in the doorway. Rose and the Doctor finally broke apart to open cabinets and drawers to retrieve things for tea. Rose glanced up at Clara stopped in the doorway. “Were you going back to the infirmary; did you need help getting back?” she asked as she put the kettle on. 

Rose heard the refrigerator door open behind her and close quickly, disrupting her conversation. She sighed and shut her eyes briefly, “Doctor, at least get a spoon,” came the irritated remark.   
She heard Clara giggle as the wide eyed face of the past Doctor popped out from behind Rose’s form with a jar of jam in one hand and his first two fingers stuck in his mouth. Rose’s amber eyes opened slowly. She turned on her heel and snatched the half-empty jar out of his hand. A muffled cry followed. “Does he still have this nasty habit, or is it something new?” she huffed at the other woman as she screwed the lid back on. 

“I see him do it sometimes and it’s positively disgusting,” Clara scrunched up her nose to further her point. “Thought so, anyways, were you planning to stay or not?” Rose asked causally as she put the jam back where it belonged. Clara bit her lip, clearly conflicted. She chewed on the soft skin a little longer before deciding. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” 

The Doctor’s face lit up, “Brilliant! Now just don’t stand there come in, nobody is going to know how you take your tea if you keep standing in the doorway like you can’t come in.” He motioned with a hand as he pulled out tea cups and saucers with the other. Rose always liked the tea set they normally used; the Doctor had picked it out on one of the planets they had stopped at. It was decaled with roses crawling around the bowl of the cup and lightly colored with pale pastel watercolors. Four cups were set out, one she assumed for the other Doctor when he woke up and the other three for them. 

The kettle whistled and was grabbed and poured into said cups by the Doctor with practiced skill. He pulled out sugar and milk and spread them out on the counter. Clara strode in and took a tentative seat on one of the bar stools next to Rose. She looked visibly uncomfortable. The Doctor stayed on the other side of the counter and contently sipped lightly on tea that positively overflowed with sugar. Clara, she noticed, put a liberal amount of milk in hers instead of sugar; Rose only put a smidge of each in hers. “So, tell me about you,” The Doctor said to Clara after he swallowed. Rose turned towards her intrigued, resting a hand on her cheek. Clara was clearly taken aback, “Uh, well I called an internet help line and I guess I called the TARDIS instead. Then the entire human race was almost trapped in the internet and so you can kind of guess what happened next. The world was saved and I was offered a trip so we go somewhere every Wednesday or so,” she finally finished. Rose listened intently and quietly sipped her tea. The Doctor watched Clara with his steady eyed gaze until she was finished. He simply nodded with a slight grin. They sat in silence sipping their tea for a moment before continuing the conversation. 

“Could have been worse, he could of blown up your job,” Rose put in with a laugh. Clara glanced at her. 

“He blew up your job?” she asked in disbelief. 

Rose nodded as she took a swig of her drink and swallowed, “I worked in a shop and had to go downstairs after closing time and the store dummies came to life and just as they were about to close in, the Doctor grabbed my hand and told me to run; then told me to forget about everything that happened and then blew up the shop. He was all big ears and leather then,” she spoke fondly. “It was adorable.” 

She heard the Doctor choke on his tea when she said that. He put down his teacup with a pout. 

“Adorable, Rose Tyler?” he spat in disbelief. “I’ll have you know I was everything but adorable, thank you very much!” The Time Lord jutted out his lower lip disapprovingly and crossed his arms in mock offense. Rose and Clara both hid their grins behind their tea. “And for the record I do believe I saved your life that day!” Rose rolled her eyes. “Yeah well that too.” She turned to Clara again and asked her how long she had been traveling with the Doctor. “Oh I don’t know maybe a few months or so; it isn’t as much as it seems though, since he only comes once a week because I have to work.” 

“Where do you work?” 

“I’m a language teacher.” 

“Lovely!” 

Clara talked with Rose and the Doctor a little longer before the trio finished their tea and put the cups in the sink but, not before pouring one last cup for the other, resting Doctor. 

“We’re going to the library, did you want to join us Clara?” Rose asked her as she entwined her hand with the Doctor’s once more. She watched as Clara glanced to the untouched tea and back to their hands. 

“I think I’ll go sit with him if that’s okay, I can bring his tea,” she said and grabbed the cup and swanned off down the hall. They had then snuck off down the hall where they both went to briefly change out of the rumpled clothes that they had worn to the gala then met back up in the library. When they entered the room Rose and collapsed on one of the couches grouped around the grand fireplace, her eyes drooping. 

The Doctor scooted her listless form over and sat down on the newly made spot. “Rose, are you listening?” Rose heard to the Doctor’s echoing voice in her ears. She didn’t have any energy to reply so simply shook her head against his shoulder. The Doctor had been trying to carry on a conversation with her about the strange day but, she could barely keep her eyes open and eventually slumped on his shoulder drifting in and out of sleep while he rambled on. 

The Doctor finally noticed how exhausted she was and paused momentarily. 

“Go to sleep, when the two of them finally show up, I’ll wake you.” She snuggled closer to him and felt him draw the large quilt she had brought with her to the library up around her shoulders. She let out a sigh and relaxed against him. 

“Will you read to me?” she mumbled sleepily against the fabric of his jumper. He blinked and gently but firmly, pushed Rose off him and rose to get a book. The Doctor seemed to know exactly what to read and walked towards the shelf were they sat. 

“I hope you like Harry Potter,” he called out to her and piled half of the series in his arms and returned to the couch. He sprawled out on the plush cushions and Rose readjusted herself to curl around his shoulder again. He opened the first book and began softly, “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” 

She was already falling asleep by the end of the first page and the Doctor knowing this, continued to keep her sleeping mind at ease by twisting further into the fourth home on Privet Drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who had been wondering, the title is referencing When Harry Met Sally.


	4. Chapter 4

Clara hastily made her way back towards the infirmary; much to her surprise this TARDIS seemed to at least like her a little more. It had moved the door right across from the kitchen just for her and even had the door cracked open in a welcoming gesture. She walked in quietly so as not to wake him and sunk into a comfortable chair that sat by a bed someone had moved the sleeping Time Lord onto. 

The Doctor looked young, younger than he ever actually had before. His usually pristinely styled hair messily stuck up in random spots and looked fluffier. And without any extra wrinkles from his variety of facial expressions he looked almost like some of her students. Clara smiled and set down the tea cup and lightly ruffled his hair. The Doctor didn’t even stir. Clara crossed her legs neatly and snatched a novel off the little in table by the bed, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” the cover boasted elegantly in swirling script. She shrugged, Shakespeare was always something to keep her busy and opened to the first page and started reading. 

After about five chapters her mind ran the sentences together into mush until it formed one long word. Clara rubbed a hand over her eyes and felt them waver on the verge of closing so she set the book in her lap and closed her eyes and slipped off into a deep sleep.

*~*

When Clara’s ebony eyes finally fluttered open she found herself face to face with a seemingly healthy, grinning Doctor sipping on cold tea. She groaned and started to ease into a stretch. 

“Good morning Clara,” he said lightheartedly, “Well I say morning I really mean early morning, I’d say it’s about five AM?” He delicately took another sip of tea. Clara blinked rapidly and tried to get her bearings straight; here was a perfectly well Doctor in the same clothes as before, probably not more than four or five hours ago with a shattered ankle. “Good morning,” she rubbed her eyes, probably smearing the makeup. Clara forced herself to stand and walk towards the sink and splash cold water on her face before speaking anymore. Once the cool spray hit her face her entire body came back alive like the water had shot another burst of energy into her system. She decided to just take her makeup off so she grabbed one of the fluffy white towels from the cabinet and rubbed at her eyes, praying it wasn’t too stubborn. 

“How are you feeling?” she called over her shoulder. Clara heard the rustle of sheets and continued to dab off the thick black lines on her eyelids. “I can walk normally, if that was what you were asking. It is a little bruised but, that’s to be expected from things like this. And you?” the Doctor asked. Clara turned to see her friend experimenting on the injured foot. 

“I’m good I guess,” she glanced down at her torn dress and shrugged. He padded over to her and she noticed he had taken off his other shoe at some point so was walking on the cool floor barefoot. The Doctor wrapped her in a small hug. 

“You’ve done a brilliant job with this, Clara,” he whispered. Clara tensed and the memories and questions of Rose surfaced back towards the front of her mind. She pulled out of his embrace and looked him over. 

“Doctor,” she began slowly, “We need to talk. About Rose.” She watched his face change and melt into one of despair. He dropped his hands limply to his sides and his gaze darted to the floor. The Doctor seemed to fall apart at the sound of her name. Clara could draw her conclusions about their relationship just from watching her act with his past self. “Doctor, I need to know; what happens to Rose?” she said more firmly. She watched his face twist up into an unreadable stony mask. 

“Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth,” he murmured softly, “Clara, she never would have left on her own, the universe wouldn’t allow that. I lost her, Clara, but she is still so very alive and right now that is all you need to know. Secrets sometimes keep us safe,” he choked out with watery eyes. He placed a hand against her cheek, “Okay?” he breathed out. 

Clara nodded numbly, unsure of what to say and thought she felt a tear fall into her hair before he pulled back. “Now where did they escape to, do you know?” he clasped his hands together and mustered up a smile. 

“The library, they said,” she answered and tried to catch her reflection of one of the polished cabinets to see if all of her makeup had come off. “Right, we better head that way then. The quicker we get there the quicker you can go back to sleep, you’re still tired, I can see it. Before we go however,” the Doctor slid the dampened towel out of her fingers and rubbed it against the apples of her cheeks, “You missed a spot.” It caught Clara off guard a bit and she tensed. Once he was finished he tapped her nose with the towel and threw it into the sink. 

“There, all better!” he grinned. “Now come on.” He practically raced out of the room and down the hall yanking her after him. She let out a squeak of protest and caught up with him as he skidded to a stop in front of the library door. Clara noticed that the entire air around the library seemed different, the Doctor’s smile had vanished and his hand rested on the door knob. He drew in a sharp breath and glanced at her. Clara covered her hand over his and gave a reassuring smile. He returned the smile and whispered, “Geronimo” and turned the knob. 

A warm wave hit them as it opened. Clara was a little surprised that the library had remained the same, unlike the kitchen had. A smooth quiet voice rang out from the direction of the grand fireplace—probably the reason it was so hot in here too. “Do you think it’s a ghost?” the voice inquired as they stepped closer, “I don’t know…sounds like wings to me. There’s a light ahead—I can see something moving.” It read on. 

As they rounded the dark shape of the large couch sitting in front of the great stone fireplace, two figures lounged on the cushions. There sprawled on the throw pillows with a thick quilt pulled over the both of them was the past Doctor and Rose. They had changed clothes since Clara had last seen them; the past Doctor was dressed in a collared short-sleeved maroon shirt and brown pinstriped suit pants and Rose had on a white sweater. The rest of her form was obscured by a large quilt that spread out on the rest of her form and spilled into the past Doctor’s lap. She was slumped against his shoulder and almost spread out on top of him. He had his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and had Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone spread out across his lap and was reading to seemingly no one in particular since Rose was asleep. Clara didn’t blame her, she herself was still exhausted and the warm heat from the fire wasn’t helping. The past Doctor paused momentarily and glanced up, pointing to the empty overstuffed loveseat that sat on the right. The Doctor carefully tip-toed over and sat down and Clara followed suit. The past Doctor softly shut the book and tenderly looked at Rose and whispered in her ear and shook her shoulder. Clara watched as Rose’s eyes opened sleepily and then quickly buried her face in his shoulder again. “It’s okay, she can sleep if she’d like,” Clara heard her Doctor say to his past self. 

“No, I’m up,” she mumbled around the shirt and sleepily picked her head up off his shoulder. The Doctor looked more at ease then he had when they walked in as he leaned back into the pillows. “So, how are we not causing a paradox, did you figure it out?” the past Doctor asked. 

“That is the question, no I didn’t. Maybe it’s because this event gets reset when Clara and I leave or we wipe our memoires after this is all said and done,” the Doctor answered and let out of puff of breath. “But, on a lighter note Rose Tyler how is Jackie?” Clara hid a grimace. The Doctor’s ease with Rose set her off. It didn’t make any sense, yes Rose was nice, but why had the Doctor never mentioned her? Was she jealous; Clara thought long and hard about that last one. 

Rose grinned, “She’s fine, a bit worried though. We’re going to go see her in a few weeks; got some kind of barometer—“she turned towards the past Doctor who nodded, “Yeah barometer for her.” 

The Doctor’s posture changed. He stood up straighter and he stopped fidgeting. Clara stole a glance in his direction; all traces of glee had drained off his face. “Doctor what is it—is that where you leave me, at home with my mum again?” Rose asked her voice rising in pitch, a furious tone taking ahold. He flinched and almost rose up out of his seat. 

“I would never ever purposefully leave you. I promise what happened was something neither of us could have ever avoided.” He spoke so softly Clara could barely hear him. Rose looked terrified as she clutched the past Doctor’s arm tighter. The other Time Lord hid his face away from her. “I promise you are perfectly happy Rose, I saw to it myself.” 

“Then why are you not with me?” she said on the verge of tears and Clara felt sorry for both the Doctor and Rose. Even if she felt jealous of Rose, she still pitied her. Something tragic had obviously happened to them but, the Doctor wouldn’t say what exactly. The past Doctor abruptly stood up with a displeased cry from Rose. “Shut up!” he snapped. The room fell silent as the past Doctor stood and began again a little more steadily, “Now, I know myself well enough to know that I would never intentionally leave you, Rose, and let’s put our mind past this. Also, Clara, I’m sorry you’ve had to sit through a conversation you have no idea about and you; we are definitely wiping our memories.” He let out an irritated sigh and stood over by the mantel. 

“Clara how about you and Rose get some sleep; me, myself, and I will work out a way back to our own TARDIS,” the Doctor spoke up. “Good idea, Rose, show Clara a spare bedroom she can use,” the past Doctor looked up at his future self, “Come with me and we can talk.” Neither of the women complained and left the library in a sleep filled haze. As Rose approached a plain door she turned to Clara. 

“Here you can use this room but um…first did you want something else to wear?” she asked. Clara glanced down at the ruined red dress and nodded. The latter beckoned her further down the hall and pulled into the wardrobe. 

“Pick what you like, I guess,” she said picking up a pair of jeans and an old pair of shoes that Clara assumed was Rose’s. Clara browsed the selection and quickly picked black polka dotted silk pajamas and turned to take her leave. The other woman led her back to the room and they said their goodbyes and Rose turned to take her leave. 

“Wait, Rose,” Clara stuck her head out into the hall, “I just wanted to let you know that the Doctor cares about you very much.” Roses face drew up into a plastered on smile. “Thanks; he cares about you just as much, ‘night Clara,” she said softly. 

Rose shut the door with a click but, Clara never heard it lock, which was odd because either she didn’t care about one of the Doctors storming in and waking her up or she was waiting for something. Clara shut her own door and turned to look at her temporary room. It was the same as the Doctor’s TARDIS’s spare rooms; neatly made bed with blue sheets with a white nightstand and a set of drawers. Off to the right was a large bathroom complete with both a shower and a porcelain tub. Along the left wall was the large walk-in closet that was practically screaming to be filled. Clara sighed and started to change into her borrowed pajamas. The silk was cool and sleek against her bare skin. She blinked and stood in the darkened room for another second before she walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light. In the second drawer below the sink Clara found a few hair ties and began to undue her hair from when it had been done up for the gala. Her makeup had already been removed in the infirmary but she stole a glance at her reflection anyways. Her dark eyes had purple moons under them and her hair stuck up in odd places and the minimalist colored pajamas made her appearance look even more washed out. Clara twirled her hair back into another loose bun and let out a breath of air. She could really use another cup of tea; that little walk down the hall she had taken had taken her exhaustion away. Her mother had always said a hot cuppa before bed would put you out like a light. So she opened her door and started off down the hall. As she walked a shadowy form surfaced. Clara quickly defined the willowy outline as the past Doctor. As he drew closer, she noticed the weariness in his ancient eyes as his long strides padded quickly in the opposite direction. He stopped as he saw Clara. 

“Hello Clara, what are you doing wondering about at this hour?” he inquired as he stuck his hands in his pockets. Clara slowed to a stop. “I couldn’t sleep since it is technically day so I guess I’m just going to get a cuppa,” she shrugged slightly confused on why he was down in this portion of the TARDIS. “Why are you here at this hour? I thought you’d be talking with the Doctor….er your future self.” 

Something flashed across his face and was quickly covered. 

“Well, we were discussing for a while and then decided it would be in everyone’s best interest just to wait until morning er—afternoon. I just decided to wonder around—don’t sleep much, me,” the Doctor shifted on his feet. He appeared to be anxious about something. 

“Goodnight then, have fun wondering,” Clara waved a hand dismissively and started to walk again. “Goodnight Clara, have fun with your tea!” he answered cheerfully and continued on to where she had just come from. Clara walked a few more steps before turning silently back to the past Doctor. He was bounding down the hallway faster now but was somehow still silent. Maybe it was the rubber soles of his trainers, she thought. Clara watched in the lowlight as he come to a stop in front of a door—Rose’s door. The past Doctor gently turned the knob and shut it behind him. 

Clara turned back and her steps became a little quicker. Now that was shocking; she knew that Rose seemed to be special to the Doctor but, that? That didn’t seem right. There must be a reason the Doctor never talked about her. Her thoughts broke when she finally reached the door to the kitchen. It was slightly cracked open and soft gold light filtered out of it. When Clara pushed the door open, she was surprised to find that she was not alone; there on a barstool sat the Doctor. He was eating a jar of strawberry jam and mumbled quietly to himself. She carefully took another step into the kitchen. 

“I know, we need to talk but that probably wasn’t why you came down here was it, Clara?” The Doctor didn’t even turn; he just remained slumped over his midnight snack. Clara had no idea how he knew she had come in, let alone was awake. She slipped around the bar and found that the kettle was already on and the water was still warm so she poured herself a cup and then turned to face the Doctor again. 

“Yes we do but it doesn’t have to be tonight if you don’t want to,” she answered and looked down at the jar, “And aren’t you supposed to get a spoon if you want to do that? Other people like jam, Doctor,” she gave him a light smile to try and lessen the blow. He just glared up at her and stuck his fingers back into the jar, coated them in jam, and stuck them in his mouth again with a pout. He stared at her the entire time, making his point. 

“I don’t want a spoon, why dirty one?” he turned the mouth of the jar towards her, “Would you like some?” Clara reached into a drawer below her, hoping it was the silverware—it was. Making a show of it, she dramatically pulled out a spoon and stuck it into the jar. 

“So what are you doing in here sulking?” she said as she put the spoon in her mouth. The lukewarm strawberry jam filled her mouth and clashed with the taste of the tea. He crossed his arms, “I do not sulk, Clara,” a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips that gave Clara hope, “I’m thinking.” He took another drop of jam. She twirled her spoon and waited until he was done before she herself took another spoonful. “Are you thinking about Rose?” 

The Doctor flinched at her name. “…Yes, I am thinking about Rose,” he choked out. Clara took his hand—the one that had been resting on the countertop. He finally met her gaze for the first time and she saw the deep rooted sadness that was normally hidden away, float to the top. “She was my first companion after the Time War,” he began softly. His hand gripped hers tighter and she could tell he was preparing for a long conversation. “Even after I regenerated once she stayed with me—even promised forever.” His voice cracked. “We were separated for a very long time and when we found each other again, I gave her up again.” The Doctor’s face drained of all color and he looked up at her soft gaze, “I promise you Clara, she is happy. I gave her a better life—one she could have her forever in. End of story.” 

Clara released his hand and darted around the counter to wrap the Time Lord in a tight hug. She felt him tense under her and then relax and wrapped his arms around her as well. The story was vague but also showed whatever separated them had dug a deep scar. 

“Thank you for telling me, it’s alright if you don’t want to tell me the details of it now,” she whispered into his hair. She heard him bite back a sniffle and stayed locked in his embrace, waiting for him to pull away. When he finally did, Clara drew back to look at his face. The Doctor looked broken; he bit his lip as he stood and looked down at her. “Thank you for understanding, Impossible Girl.” He gave her a genuine smile and gave another brief hug. Clara hummed at the sound of his favorite nickname and let herself be crushed. 

“Now,” the Doctor started again, his smile bright and his tone lighter, “You should get some sleep, we’re going to have a hell of a day tomorrow.” He let out a laugh that boomed through the empty kitchen. 

Clara joined her laughter in with his, “Oh I bet it will be, if it was anything like today!” As she laughed along she decided not to mention her encounter with his past self; guessing it would kill the moment. 

“Clara Oswald, I can promise tomorrow will be fantastic,” he yelled and lifted her up off the ground and twirled her around. She gave a little surprised sound and then quickly welcomed the action. When the Doctor set her back down he gave a little wave as Clara wondered back out of the kitchen dizzily. She skipped down the hall in a daze, slipped back into her borrowed room, slid under the sheets, and fell asleep instantly to the faint sounds of the TARDIS and distant conversation.


	5. Chapter 5

Rose heard her door open and shut softly. She sleepily closed her eyes again, knowing full well it was the Doctor. He sat on the edge of her bed and rocked back on his hands. “Long day?” she yawned and sat up to turn on a lamp on the nightstand. He turned his head towards her voice and smiled thinly. 

“Oh yes.” 

“Yeah, I think everyone would say that. Is it weird meeting you—future you I mean.” Rose patted the spot next to her and the Doctor slid from the foot of the bed to sit next to her. He flipped his worn trainers off and drew his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. 

“It’s different—that’s for sure. What did you think of him?” the Time Lord asked quietly. Rose glanced over at him, deep in thought. “I thought he was lovely but, then again I’m a little biased,” she giggled, “Don’t you think?” He smirked at her and nodded before sinking further into the pillows behind him. Rose could tell the whole encounter with this new Doctor had been all types of draining for him. Hell, it was even hard on her.

“What do you think happens to me, Doctor?” Rose finally asked timidly. 

The Doctor twisted towards her on his side and inhaled sharply. “I don’t know Rose but, I want you to know that I would never leave you alone. I will always come back to you, I swear.” He caught her up in a tight hug. She twined her arms around his neck and bit back a sob. That’s what the other Doctor had said even when it had obviously not been forever. 

“Doctor, I don’t want to die,” she whispered into his shoulder. 

“You won’t Rose, you hear me? You won’t die, neither of us will.” 

Still locked together, he pulled back to see her face. Dry tear tracks ran down her cheeks and splattered onto the comforter. The Doctor drew Rose back against him. “You’ll be okay, Rose, I promise.” He bit out; Rose shifted so she sat directly in front of him and gripped his shirt tightly, as if he was going to disappear. The Doctor pulled back to place a reassuring kiss on her forehead. She leaned closer and snuck another on his cheek before sliding down to meet his lips; Rose allowed her eyes to drift closed. The Doctor slid his hands down off her shoulders and splayed them across her back, pulling her closer. She could tell he tasted the peppermint of her toothpaste and the felt her lips against his as she urged him to kiss deeper. Her hands found their way up and carded through his chestnut hair, mussing it even more. Rose pressed closer to the Doctor until soon they were pressed together in the fray. Rose couldn't afford to let him go now, not when they knew at any moment it could be their last. The thought made Rose shudder. She twisted until they had both flopped back on the bed and momentarily pulled back to catch their breath. 

The sleeve of Rose’s tank top had ripped and hung limply, exposing her tanned skin and in the struggle she must have untucked the Doctor’s jumper. Her skin felt hot and feverish as he brushed his lips against the bare skin innocently and trailed up to her collarbone. She drew in a sharp breath as the kisses became more deliberate as they continued up. Her fingers wound themselves tighter into his hair, knotting them intricately and mussing it beyond fixing. Rose allowed her counterpart to ruck up the hem of her shirt and the cool fingers to explore the warm skin. 

Finally their lips met once again in a fiery passion and exploded with bright white fireworks painted on the backs of their eyelids and pulsed through their bodies, aching to press closer. Rose pressed and urged him to continue further until a piercing shriek filled the room. The Doctor pulled away up off of Rose quickly. She propped herself up on her elbows in confusion. They sat frozen with confusion on the rumpled sheets. Rose heard pounding footsteps come down the hall and stop close to her door and then the banging on her door. The Doctor pounced off of the bed and fumbled with the lock before finally hearing the latch pop open and he flung the door open wide. It revealed Clara standing in the door frame. Her dark eyes flew open wide at the sight of him in his mussed state. 

“Something…something’s wrong,” she stuttered out. 

The Time Lord brushed past her, followed by an equally rumpled Rose. One of her tank top sleeves was torn and rucked while her hair sprung up in odd places, oh well it couldn’t be helped. She didn’t miss the look Clara had given them when the Doctor had answered and not her. The Doctor, Rose noticed with a wince, looked much the same with an untucked jumper and tousled hair. 

They both tried not to notice how rugged they both looked and hurried down the hallway. Clara rushed to catch up to the duo; they rounded corners until coming out to the Consul Room. The other Doctor came running from another hallway across from theirs. He reached the consul before any of them and yanked the monitor into view. The Doctor thundered up the ramp and to his side before running around to press buttons and flip switches. 

“Is there anything we can do?” Rose shouted above the loud alarm. The Doctor glanced up briefly before motioning for the two of them to hurry over. 

“Okay Rose, hold that down!” he shouted and turned his body to kick something with his bare foot. “Clara, press these up!” Rose rushed to do what she was told as did Clara.

“The TARDIS is upset about something; it must be the both of us here at the same time. She keeps trying to recalibrate!” The future Doctor shouted and rushed around to hit something with a mallet. The whole room tremored and things flew out of place and hit its’ occupants. Rose panicked trying to scrap together her knowledge of flying the TARDIS when an idea popped out of seemingly nowhere. 

“What if you rerouted the time manipulator and cut the power towards it; the loss of power would shut off the TARDIS’s fit until we can find what’s really wrong! We would be at a complete stand still,” Rose shouted to the two men. She hoped it didn’t sound completely unintelligent. They both whipped towards her and then at each other. 

“Would that actually work?” the two asked each other. Then as if in slow motion the future Doctor reached to grab something below the consul and the other raced around to pull a wire. The blaring finally came to a stop and the lights flickered. The shaking stopped but, not before flinging the four of them flat on their backs. Rose heard a chuckle escape the Doctor’s lips and was quickly joined in by Clara and the other Doctor. She found herself adding in her laughter as the group pulled themselves to their feet and dusted themselves off. The Time Lords turned towards Rose with surprised expressions.

“How did you know that would work, Rose?” the other Doctor remarked. Rose shrugged with a small smile. 

“Dunno, I just pieced together what I already knew,” she rolled her eyes and allowed her smile to grow brighter, “Or maybe I just have a great teacher.” Both men flushed deep red and stuttered with embarrassment. Rose didn’t miss when Clara set her mouth into a hard set line. She could tell the other woman was trying to push her jealousy down. Clara crossed her arms and forced a smile onto her features before padding over to the rest of the group. 

“Now we’re stuck?” she asked, butting into the conversation. The other Doctor stopped giggling and turned towards Clara. He had a toothy grin set across his face not unlike a kid. It made Rose laugh. 

“Nope,” He strutted towards the consul and flipped a lever up with a flourish, “You see, Clara, we have confused the old girl, now she has absolutely no clue that we are causing a paradox with the both of us being here.” He ran to her and shook her by the shoulders. 

“Isn’t that great?” he exclaimed. Clara grinned and nodded. 

“Fantastic!” 

The Doctor cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head, ruffling his hair further. He ambled around in a tight circle and shot questioning looks at Rose gesturing towards her shoulder. She returned them with a glance down. Rose blushed at the sight of her ripped tank top sleeve which was drooping to reveal a good portion of bare skin. Well that was embarrassing, she thought. She hastily tried to pin it up with her hand, which failed. The Doctor winced and mouthed an apology. Rose waved a hand in acceptance. They waited for the future Doctor and Clara to get done with their explaining. 

When they finally drew apart Clara looked flushed and turned her attention towards the pair. 

“Um so if we’re not exactly stuck just stopped shouldn’t we find a way to be…unstuck?” she appealed to the rest of the group. The Time Lords exchanged looks. 

“Well there is something I remember reading about in the library that may help,” the Doctor stated. He walked to the monitor and read over a line before looking back up. “It looks as though I have a book on paradoxes and the effects they have on TARDIS’s. Ha, what do you think of that?” he chattered happily. The other Doctor twirled towards the cat walk where he had previously come out of. 

“I know exactly where that is,” he shouted back. Clara rushed to his side; obviously not wanting to stay with her and the Doctor. 

“I’ll help, I think you showed it to me once!” she lied. Clara trotted up next to him to keep up with the other Doctor’s lanky strides. The Doctor watched his future self disappear into the dark shadow of the dim hallway before turning back to Rose. Her cheeks bore red splotches against her pale skin. She hadn’t felt this embarrassed since her Mum had walked in on Jimmy Stone and her a few years ago. She chewed on her lip and peered at him through her lashes. Surprisingly, he began to giggle. 

“I’m sorry about the alarm, I didn’t know Clara would burst in,” he got out between giggles. The corners of Rose’s lips turned up to show her teeth and let out a short laugh. Her tongue ran over said teeth and quickly disappeared back behind the rows of white. 

“It’s alright,” she purred and took a step towards him. She felt his arm loop around her back and drug her closer to his body. By now they were pressed close together, tangled up in each other from the waist up; so close that their noses touched. She grinned broader and slid her hands up to splay at the Doctor’s chest, “No interruptions now, yeah?” He glanced down at the contact, his dark eyes deep with lust. The heat from his palms sent jolts down to her toes. The Doctor forced a breath out. She felt his lips touch hers and ignited her blood. Every alarm in her mind went off. Clara and the other Doctor would be back soon, they couldn’t do this now, she thought. With a hitch, the Doctor sealed what little space remained between them. Rose crumpled his shirt in her fists and forgot about her worries; there would be no interruptions this time she thought. The Time Lord briefly pulled his face back. 

“Oh definitely not,” he grinned feverishly and slid his slim fingers down to her waistband.

He felt her body tense at the contact as they slipped under her shirt. Their mouths met once again and Rose felt a bit of tongue dart out to taste the corner of her mouth. It sent sparks between their bodies and drew into a deeper kiss. The sparks burned brighter and exploded into ruby red fireworks and the blood began to run hotter through her veins. Rose submitted to the Doctor’s touch and melted into his chest. They wrestled back in a fiery passion, the Doctor pressing her back with harsh kisses on her jaw until Rose felt the cool coral of the consul bump against her. Her hands unknotted themselves from the fabric and slunk up with teasing slowness. The pressure of his lips lessened as he arched his form in pleasure. One of Rose’s hands drew lines in and out of his hair while the other wrapped tightly around the Doctor’s neck, anchoring itself at the collar. His hands hungrily ate up the feverish skin, rucking up her tank top. Rose got the message and silently complied, the fabric felt suffocating, and it was too much. Her hands raked his hair one last time before they pried their way towards the buttons on his shirt. The passion was building and the clothing was in the way, not to mention the height difference. Her head flooded with lust, making Rose purr with pleasure. She felt the air hit her shoulder blades as the Doctor drew her hem off in harsh movements. Her leg slid up to graze the side of his own and Rose pitched further into him. The Time Lord couldn’t wait for her as she fumbled with his own clothes and abandoned undressing her to make a grab under her leg. He hooked his hand under her kneecap and forced her up. Rose welcomed the support and leaned back, forcing the Doctor to hoist her up onto the consul itself. She felt tongue slide against hers and numbly the levers and switches of the consul underneath her. His hot puffs of gasping breath tickled her sweat slicked skin. Finally the buttons of his shirt popped and Rose clawed at it. The Doctor flung it over his head. The duo didn’t even hear it drop to the ground before they went back to work on Rose’s shirt. His fingers drew sticky sweet patterns up her long legs and trailed up to the elastic of her pajama pants. Her body slid in waves against his with pulsing surges. Rose’s nails drew angry red lines across his bare skin. She smiled bitterly against his lips. The Doctor let out a pleasing groan and leaned into her touch as her nails dug further down. The Doctor whined as he felt them make slashes in his skin. The warm blood oozed out in shallow cuts. 

“Oh rough today are we,” he bit out between the frenzy of kisses against her throat. He felt a rumbling laugh bubble up as her nails bore deeper. Her lips brushed his cheek and slid to his ear. 

“Mm, yeah,” Rose purred sadistically as she heard his whines increase. Grinning wickedly she gave it a small bite and let out a thrum of satisfaction. 

“What the hell!” a faint voice echoed. Rose ignored it and continued on until it continued to speak. “I thought I never had to go over this twice! Rule number eleven: no sex on the consul!” it huffed out. The Doctor pulled away so quickly from Rose’s embrace that she almost slipped off the consul. She flapped her arms to regain balance. Rose’s line of sight fell on the brooding form of the other Doctor and a very red Clara peeking over his shoulder. The Doctor stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his shirtless chest and panting heavily. 

Her cheeks flushed an even deeper crimson. This was not going to end well. It looked like a tornado had come through the Consul Room; the Doctor’s jumper strewn on a railing and a few drops of blood spattered the mussed consul. She urged her eyes back to the future Doctor who continued to sulk. Clara had timidly crept around her and the Doctor and caught up to him as he leafed through a leather bound book she tapped his forearm. 

“Doctor, you actually made that a rule?” Rose heard her inquire as she followed him and gingerly stepped around the shirtless and bloody Doctor once more. 

“Yes Clara, being bent over the consul is not fun,” he spun towards her with an unreadable look, “It hurts. Think about it—all those switches, levers, buttons…” he droned on and gave a slight shudder. Clara also gave an inward shudder; Rose didn’t blame her. The Doctor seemed asexual until well, he wasn’t. 

The Doctor let out a sound of annoyance. “Please, he’s just upset because it wasn’t him,” he taunted. The other Doctor spun, looked up from his book, and stalked over to where his counterpart was smirking and slammed it shut. 

“Oh, sure, look who’s talking! You can’t even get a grip for five minutes,” he poked his chest for good measure. “What do you think of that, Sandshoes?” he boasted. Rose shrank at his angry words, they were a little much. The pinstriped man’s mouth fell open in disbelief that someone could possibly insult his outfit. The Time Lord glanced down at his Converse. 

“They’re not sand shoes—what could possibly make you think that; what about you and that…chin?” he spat back and gave his future self a little shove. The latter pouted at the action and clenched his teeth. 

“I’m uh just going to change into something more…reasonable while you two sort this out, okay?” Rose put in and darted off the consul and sprinted down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's so much drama, I'm so sorry.


	6. Chapter 6

When Rose had run off down the hall, Clara longed to follow her and retreat away from the argument. It was obviously something very personal to them both and she felt like she was intruding but the curiosity rooted her in place. The Doctor snapped his head around at the sound of Rose’s voice. 

“Rose, wait!” He yelled down the hall but she had already gone. Clara watched his hands curl into tight fists as he turned back to his past self. “See look what you’ve done now!” 

His past self brushed past him and went to gather his shirt off the railing and throw it on once more, covering the red tracks that ran down his back. Every trace of smugness had been wiped cleanly off his features. 

“What I’ve done? What about you—losing Rose? Where is she now lost, abandoned,” his voice grew with rage as the Doctor stalked up to his future self, “Dead?! You promised to—“His next statement was cut off by a punch. Clara watched, frozen in fear, as her Doctor, as harmless as he was, landed a hard blow on the other’s cheek. The impact knocked the latter back onto the floor with a grunt of surprise. As the past Doctor’s brown eyes snapped open, a swollen red splotch began to form. His counterpart let his fists fall to his sides and a dark tone seep into his composure. The Doctor was breathing heavily as in disbelief he actually landed the punch. 

He snatched the pinstriped man up by his collar. “You want to know what happens too her?” he shouted as spit flew from his lips, “She gets trapped in a place even you cannot go. For years you live without her and finally when she does make her way back, you’ll lose her to someone else.” The furious Time Lord flung the other back down. The action made an awful snapping noise as his body made contact with the grate. Clara flinched at the awful sound. There were no tears, just a groan as the past Doctor heaved himself back to his feet but his eyes held a different emotion: fear. She’d rarely ever seen either Doctor ever show signs of fear spread out so plainly. Clara couldn’t take it. After the gala, finding out the Doctor’s other regeneration, and Rose. Compared to Rose she was just another pretty face that reminded him of Rose. 

Clara let the tears of anger and jealousy that she had been holding back burst. They coursed down her cheeks and dripped off her face in a river. She attempted to remain silent to remain out of the minds of the Doctors but, a sniffle escaped. Both men shifted their gazes to her direction. They seemed like they’d completely forgotten that Clara was still standing there after Rose had ran. 

Their eyes widened at their realizations. The Doctor took a shaky step towards her, his hand outstretched. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t…I didn’t mean to upset you, Clara. I-I didn’t mean to get so angry,” he stuttered out between harsh breathes. When he came close enough to touch her he stretched his fingers out to touch her arm. Clara flinched and shied away. The pinstriped Doctor jammed his equally shaky hands in his pockets and tiptoed over until he came to a stop a few feet behind his future self. He glanced down at her like a naughty child that had been caught in the act. 

“And I also apologize.” He said somberly and ran a hand through his hair. Clara’s lip quivered and she tried to stop crying as the two Time Lords gazed at her with guilty pasted-on kindness. With a slight squeak she blindly fled down the hallway. She wasn’t even aware of which turns she took as she ran faster and faster. The corridors spiraled through her head as Clara went further into the TARDIS. Her felt like a panic attack was coming on. 

Finally she came to a door which she burst through tearfully. The door slammed shut and Clara fell against it, sobbing into her hands. Rigor ate its way through her body as fever-like warmth crept up her throat. As it set in, it began to burn. 

Her breath heaved in shallow breaths as she tried to calm down.

Clara’s puffy red eyes slowly opened as her sobs died down. She looked around at the room she had ended up in. The room seemed to be suspended in space; stars twinkled around her and thin lines connected certain ones to form constellations. The darkness of the room calmed her frayed nerves. In tiny scrawl their names were placed off to the sides. The floor was seemingly non-existent as it too was space. The only reassurance that it was in fact, a floor was the fact that it was cluttered with different chairs, pillows, blankets, and even a chase. Clara stood and took a light step over to a large fluffy red pillow. The floor gave a little as she put her foot down. She stumbled trying to get used to it as she collapsed into the down. It was soft and made her sleepy; the pillow seemed to form around her in a tight hug. 

Clara looked up at the named constellations in the seemingly endless room for a while until a small click sounded behind her. She twisted around quickly, scared that it was the Doctor. It was but, not the one she had been expecting. The pinstriped Doctor took a hesitant step in before noticing Clara. He stepped back into the door way about to leave again. 

“Sorry…” he murmured and began to shut the door. Clara shifted quickly. 

“Wait, you can stay!” she hastily called out, her manners getting the better of her. All she really wanted was to be alone but to her dismay, the door stopped and just a sliver of light remained. Then it opened once more and he carefully slipped back in and over towards the chase. 

Clara noticed that since his fight with the Doctor he had donned a matching pinstriped suit jacket and an ice pack; he’d even fixed his hair from the looks of it. She watched as he took a seat at the end of the chase and held the ice to his swollen cheek—so much for superior biology she thought. 

“How did you know I was in here?” she questioned him. It did seem a little creepy that one of them had found her this quickly. The Doctor’s gaze shifted to meet hers with a surprised flick of his brows. 

“I didn’t, actually, I came in here to watch the constellations. How did you find this room, though?” he replied and shifted the ice. 

“I…just wondered in.” 

He just nodded and they sat in silence for a few more moments, watching the stars slowly rotate around them. The Doctor turned to face her. 

“About earlier—I’m sorry you had to see that, Clara,” he began quietly. Clara glanced at him in surprise. 

“Which earlier?” she laughed and watched in the starlight as his face flushed red. He stuttered. 

“U-um, all of them I guess but, mainly that fight,” he huffed out a laugh, “Blimey I forget how hard I could hit sometimes, though I did deserve that I suppose,” he shrugged and pulled the ice off to show a purple bruise that had sprouted out of the prior red splotch. She gasped and he chuckled. 

“Oh, and sorry for the scare I gave you opening the door instead of Rose. I could tell you were a little shocked,” the past Doctor continued hastily, trying not to make it a big deal. 

“Um… if it’s not too rude, who exactly is Rose to you?” Clara tried to venture. There was no sugarcoating it now, she thought. She noticed him tense in his seat and his eyes bore down on her. 

“She’s well, special to me I guess. But then the same could said about you as well,” the past Doctor answered lightly. 

“Special, me—yeah that’d be the day!” 

“But, you are! I don’t just pick anybody, Clara. In all my years of traveling I’ve never met someone who wasn’t important. That’d be like saying you’ve never seen blue sky or the grass!” He looked at her in bewilderment. Despite herself, Clara began to giggle. The sight of him, holding an icepack to his face paired with the look displayed on his face was just too much. The giggles grew and turned into full blown laughter as she doubled over from her spot on the floor. Goodness, what was up with her emotions today? 

“Was it something I said?” he asked her, taken aback at the reaction. Clara didn’t answer, though, she continued to laugh rather madly now. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes as she tried to contain her mirth. It took several minutes before she could eventually giggle out, 

“Y-you just look,” another fit of giggles overcame her, “so…s-silly!” Then the past Doctor lost her again to another overwhelming laughing fit. A smile crept up the corners of his mouth and let out a short laugh. The short laugh turned into something similar to Clara’s as they snickered at the past Doctor’s new look. 

When the remaining of their snickers had died down the past Doctor stood to take his leave. He paused at the doorway and turned back to Clara. 

“And Clara?” he called. She looked away from the stars to the illuminated doorframe. “It’s nice to know my future is in good hands,” he smiled sadly and shut the door behind him, leaving her alone in the star room once more. She thought about what he’d said about his future being in good hands. The Doctor may have called her a few nicknames and gave her complements from time to time but, she didn’t ever really think anything of it. Those things couldn’t have meant that much—could they? After all he did call a piece of machinery beautiful once so there was no way he’d have meant them in that way. Besides, the Doctor has—had, she amended, Rose. Clara didn’t think anyone would ever trump Rose in the Doctor’s mind. Not after what she’d seen anyways. 

She shook the questions from her head for what seemed like the millionth time. Being mindful of the sinking floor, she stepped carefully around the pillows and left the star room. She came out by the library—probably the box’s doing because she remembered going a little further than the library. It was probably better this way though; at least she knew where she was. Maybe she could find the wardrobe and change into actual clothes now. Clara set off down the short corridor in hopes of coming across it. Her Doctor seemed too had changed everything in the TARDIS since he had regenerated; the walls, the Consul Room, even the kitchen. She guessed it made some sense; he would have to get tired of seeing the same thing over and over again. 

Clara came to a door that looked like the wardrobe door and opened it. What she found was not the wardrobe but the kitchen. Out of all of the places it had to be the one she been to at least a million times, Clara thought to herself. It was still lit brightly and merrily like a few hours before; at the table Rose sat alone. True to her word, she had changed clothes; she now wore a regular green short sleeved shirt and normal jeans. Clara still had no idea what made Rose so…special. She was completely normal in every way, shape, and form. There wasn’t anything extremely different about her, sure she had stopped that alarm but, still she was overall an average person. 

Despite her disdain for the other woman, Clara stepped into the room anyways. The Doctor wouldn’t give her anything on Rose so why not ask her herself? Rose glanced up at the sound of her footsteps. 

“Hello,” she greeted Clara cheerfully. Clara returned it with a wave and sat in the chair across from her.

"We just keep coming back here don't we? Infinite rooms and we choose to go to this one ten times in the same day." Clara started. Rose trained her eyes away from her dark ebony ones. 

“I suppose you're right, it is a bit silly. After all its just a kitchen. Um did they…solve their argument?” she asked quietly. 

“If by solving you mean a fistfight then, yes,” Clara said, letting her disapproval bleed through her words. The latter frowned and looked up suddenly, half jumping out of her seat. 

“A fistfight?” she shouted. Her hands gripped the edges of the table in anger—“oh we’re having a talk about manners later!” Clara nodded. 

“The Doctor popped yours a pretty good one—although, I would say he did deserve it.” The other woman nodded an agreement to her surprise and felt the corners of her mouth upturn. 

“He has horrible manners, that man. I hope he learned a lesson. I don’t suppose he can’t be the only one to blame though,” a flush of pink crept up her cheeks and she glanced up to meet Clara’s gaze, “I’m really sorry, by the way. I didn’t catch that you fancied him until an hour ago.” Clara’s brows shot up. Was it really that obvious? She didn’t really fancy him—right? The Doctor was her best friend and nothing more; just a friend with a magical box, a lack of personal space, and a slightly cute sense of style. Wait. Damn, so she wished he were a little more than a friend but, not that much. 

Slowly she drew in a breath before speaking, “The Doctor’s really only a friend.” Rose grinned brighter with an all-knowing look. 

“Sure, that’s what I said, Clara.” Rose said and got up and walked around into the kitchen. “Do you want something to eat?” she called back. 

“Please, if it’s not a bother.” 

“Oh no, not at all—anything you want chips, dessert?” 

“Just chips for me, please.” 

“No problem.” 

Rose quickly returned with two plates and set one in front of Clara. She found it interesting that their kitchen had chips on hand as if it were completely normal. As she settled back into her own seat she began to speak again. “I’m glad he’s not alone, Clara. It’s nice to see someone be there for him when I can’t.” 

Her proclamation caught Clara off guard. As much as she didn’t like Rose, she pitied her. She was leading a perfectly fine life with the Doctor and then to find out she’s no longer with him would have to be devastating. 

“Oh…um, thanks?” she responded slowly, unsure of what to say, “I’m sorry.” Rose gazed at her sadly before taking a bite out of a chip. 

“It’s alright; it’s not your fault.” Rose mumbled bitterly. They fell into an awkward silence. Clara munched on her snack marveling at the flavor, and tried not to make eye contact with the person sitting across from her and Rose did the same. Neither knew what to say. 

“So how long have you been traveling with the Doctor? I never did ask.” Clara finally broke the tension. Rose stared at her food and pushed it around the plate a few times.

“Um it’s kind of hard to tell sometimes but, I’d say roughly two years or so. Like I said, I could be drastically wrong but that’s just an estimate,” she droned on and Clara drew in a sharp breath. At the sound of Clara’s gasp she glanced up with an alarmed look. 

“Sorry that just seems like a really long time,” she amended, “I’ve only traveled for a few weeks—maybe a month or two at most. Do you ever go back—to Earth I mean, like to see family or work or something?” Rose shrugged and gave the other a slight smile. 

“Just occasionally, I already mentioned earlier that we’re going to see my mum in a few weeks. Other than that, no, I stay on the TARDIS most of the time and travel with the Doctor. What about you though, you mentioned a life outside the TARDIS?” she replied. 

“Yeah, the Doctor comes and picks me up every Wednesday to go somewhere. Every other day I’m a school teacher,” it was Clara’s turn to shrug, “It’s kind of rare that I stay, though. Sometimes I will, if it’s late.” Rose nodded and finished off the rest of her chips, waiting patiently for another question. “So you said something about two regenerations? I don’t know much about it but, I’m guessing you’ve already seen him change his face once?” Clara urged further, still hoping for better answers. 

“Mhm,” Rose said and got up from the table. She dumped her plate in the sink and turned back to Clara. “My first Doctor was, as I think I mentioned before, leather and blue eyes and sounded like he was from the North. Then he went and turned into what you see now, rude and still not ginger. I guess later he’ll change into your Doctor,” she waved her hand and sat back down, “Who knows though, he could be thousands of years older than mine right now.” 

Clara paused. She was stunned by how well Rose could answer everything so clearly. She decided that maybe Rose wasn’t too bad—nice even. As the conversation went on with the both of them swapping stories, things began to mellow. There no longer was tension in between them and it felt as if they had known each other longer than a day—or was it two now? The food had been cleaned up and put away. 

“Rose!” The pinstriped Doctor’s voice boomed outside to the doorway, putting a halt to their conversation. His head popped into view, “Rose, you wouldn’t happen to know where m—” he trailed off as his eyes slid over to Clara and then to Rose. The Time Lord balked and began again, “Do you know where the Sonic went?” 

Rose sighed, “Did you check your coat pocket?” she asked slowly. The Doctor’s mouth closed with a snap and then opened again. 

“I bet you’re right! I’ll just be on my way then,” he said and started walking away. Clara watched as Rose sprang from her chair and ran out the door. She came wrangling a reluctant Doctor back in. 

“I said I was sorry! Listen, I wasn’t trying to be rude but, I guess it just happened!” the man whined. Rose wasn’t having any of it though and she dragged him over into the kitchen to talk privately. Although Clara could clearly hear everything; even see everything if she glanced the right way. 

“Look, I know you didn’t mean it, hell, I didn’t mean to make him upset but we did. And you lot go and get in a fistfight over it! Come on Doctor,” she whispered fiercely and smacked his arm. He gave her a pained look and glanced around. 

“I know, I know. He took the first swing though!” the Doctor whispered back, fisting a hand through his hair. Rose sighed and uncrossed her arms.

“Doctor…” 

“Alright so it was stupid, I admit it!” 

“And?” 

“And, I will apologize to him.” 

“Good.” 

Rose leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. “Now go find your screwdriver,” she ordered. Clara scrambled to act like she hadn’t heard their conversation as it drew to a close. She glanced around and twirled the hair that had escaped her bun around her fingers as the pair emerged. The past Doctor strolled by and gave her a friendly smile as he left the room in pursuit of his screwdriver. Rose followed behind him. 

“Sorry about that,” Rose called out lightly. 

“No it’s alright, actually I think I’m going to get a better change of clothes if you don’t mind,” Clara said as she got up from her chair. 

“Okay, take a left and then a right if you forgot the way,” she answered. Clara couldn’t help but notice the new tone her voice had taken on. Rose sounded worn. The argument seemed to have revealed her exhaustion but, Clara didn’t mention it to her. Instead she just thanked the other woman and left to find the wardrobe.


	7. Chapter 7

“So while you were gone I figured out that the TARDIS can, in fact, land next to mine and not cause a paradox. Although to do that we’re going to have to keep the time manipulator rerouted until we leave safely,” the future Doctor called out to his past self as he reappeared in the doorway. They had been pouring endlessly over a solution to set the timelines right again after Clara had run off and the pinstriped Doctor had reappeared back from wherever he had gone. The Doctor glanced up from his book. The past Doctor was riffling through the pockets of his trench coat, pulling everything out of them and onto the floor. His other self spied a small box from his past that brought back haunting memories and reached to pick it up. A hand snatched it out of his fingers. 

“That’s not for you,” the pinstriped Doctor said hastily and tucked it back into another pocket. 

“I know who it’s for though,” his future self said mournfully, “Rose—it was going to be hers.” Brown eyes met his green ones. They filled with horror and fear for the future. “I hope you find a good opportunity to give it to her,” he said hoarsely and stood back up. 

His past self's set his jaw in a hard line as his sonic screwdriver tumbled out of his pocket. He grabbed it and stuffed everything he had pulled out back into the pockets and tossed the coat on. 

“Whatever you do, never tell either one of us—Rose or me—what happens to us,” he ordered his future self as he rounded around the consul. He nodded in acknowledgement and went back to reading his book. They worked in silence from then on, only speaking to compromise about a repair or theory. 

“I like her, by the way—Clara I mean.” The past Doctor said, “She seems brilliant.” The future Doctor smiled slightly. He thought she was, even if she denied it. Clara probably thought that she reminded him of Rose, which she did but that wasn’t the only reason he picked her to travel with him. Ever since he’d first met her as a Dalek and then in Victorian London, the Doctor had been interested in figuring out just who was Clara Oswald. A mystery he had yet to solve and one that probably would never be solved. 

“She is,” was his only reply. The Doctor caught the pride that bled through his voice. It was the same kind that ran through his words when he spoke about Rose to Clara. The future Doctor frowned The other Time Lord didn’t have any idea how long it had been since he’d lost Rose or in what manner besides the hint about being trapped somewhere but, it was a good thing that he didn’t know or he might try to avoid it. Yes, not knowing is for the best he decided. So the Doctor continued to work with his past self in attempt to fix the time streams. 

He would never admit it to the other but; the Doctor enjoyed working with himself, even if sometimes they drove each other insane. It was nice to have someone else who understood time and space as well as he did. 

“Well look who’s playing nicely now,” a cheerful voice rang out above their heads. The future Doctor—who was working below the consul—sprang up in surprise, hitting his head. 

“Ow, bloody hell!” he gritted his teeth and rubbing the spot. The other two people in the room broke into snickers. The Doctor pouted. The voice belonged to Rose, who now sat in the jump seat beaming at him. She had changed her clothes since the last time and the prior tension had faded from her face.

“Are you two getting along now?” she asked. The future Doctor gave her a smile. 

“Rose Tyler, did you ever doubt that we wouldn’t?” he asked her sweetly before flitting back around the consul to view something on the monitor. His past self shot a guilty smile his way before waiting for an answer. 

“Yes, judging from that bruise you gave him,” she teased. The bow-tie Doctor’s brows shot up. 

“Oi, he deserved it!” 

“I’m sure he did.” 

“He is right here, you know,” the past Doctor butted in. “And for the record I wasn’t the one who was calling the other names!” 

The trio wrapped themselves in conversation while they worked. Rose eventually tried to help the Time Lords but, was quickly sat back down again because it was apparent she had no clue what they were actually doing. 

“So what are you two doing then?” she pouted. The Doctor shut the book he was looking through and took a seat beside her. He gave her a sideways glance and a sweet grin. 

“Well first we’re trying to straighten out the timelines. Then Clara and I will get back to my TARDIS and off we pop,” he explained. Rose watched his hands flitter around the space in front of him as he spoke. It was a similar tick to the one the past Doctor had—always having to move around—and it seemed to make her giggle. The Doctor gave Rose a look. 

“What?” 

“You’re so different.” 

“Well New New New Doctor!” 

“You still remember that?” 

“Rose Tyler, I never forgot!” 

*~* 

The pinstriped Doctor watched the interaction with a heavy heart. Whatever had happened to Rose must have happened long ago. He could hear it in his future self’s voice. The small box in his pocket felt heavy and bulky. What had he said? ‘Find a good time to tell her’—yes, the Doctor thought. The storm was coming soon then. Maybe they’d do something relaxing for the occasion—they were going to Jackie’s in a few weeks maybe that would be a good time. Then a reflexive shudder rippled his skin as he thought about how hard she could hit. No, maybe Jackie’s wasn’t the best place. The Time Lord sighed and tuned their conversation out. There was work to be done and a little question wasn’t going to stop him from doing it.

*~*

After finding the wardrobe (finally) Clara made her way back to her borrowed room. She fixed her hair in front of the bathroom mirror before splashing cool water on her face. The chips Rose had fixed her some time ago hadn’t really given her the push of energy she needed. When she needed a wakeup call, icy hot water always seemed to do the trick. 

Instead of letting the water run, Clara allowed the sink bowl to fill until it was deep enough to fully immerse her face in. She held her breath and dipped her face into the liquid. As the water touched the hot skin, a snap of adrenaline fizzed back into her blood. Clara’s head snapped back and she gasped for breath. Well at least it worked, she thought. She reached for a towel and dried her face. Clara had, at last, found some reasonable clothes to wear; a royal blue dress was going to find itself a new home on her body. It sort of resembled her favorite red and black dress she had left back in her Doctor’s wardrobe. She frowned; Clara hoped there was a way to get that back because she was going to be missing it otherwise. However; instead of throwing it on she opted to stay in her pajamas. She figured she’d be going to sleep soon anyways. 

Deciding to go finally find her Doctor, she set out down the hallway. The TARDIS seemed to stretch the corridor as she carefully stepped down it. It went on and on and still there was no sign of the Consul Room. 

“Would you stop?” she exclaimed angrily at the box. The TARDIS haughtily flashed her lights and refused to listen to the woman; she seemed like she was trying to stall Clara. So she huffed out an annoyed sound and trudged a little faster down the hall. After another five minutes, Clara found the doorway to the Consul Room. The gold lit room was dim but, Clara only saw one person. No, two, sitting peacefully in the jump seat. 

“Ah, hello Clara!” one of the forms called out. It stood and stepped in to the light to show the Doctor. The other person shifted and also stood. 

“I think I’m going for some more sleep, goodnight Doctor,” Rose’s voice said sleepily. She walked past Clara and mumbled a goodnight to her as well and slipped down the same hall Clara had just come from. 

“Goodnight!” he called after her. Clara stepped further up the catwalk. The Doctor glanced down at her and held his arms out expectantly. Slowly he stepped towards her and wrapped her in a soft embrace. She sucked in breath. The Time Lord said nothing, for once. Clara felt him sigh into her hair. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and squeezed her tighter. Clara didn’t know what to say; the déjà vu was striking as the Doctor just held her close for a few long moments. Wrapped up together drained every ounce of adrenaline that she had tried so hard to muster up. Giving into the lack of sleep, she sunk into his chest, just like the previous day. 

When Clara pulled back sleepily a few minutes later she asked, “What time is it?” He checked his watch. 

“About six at night,” he said, surprise tinging his voice. 

“Oh,” she yawned, “I think I might go get some sleep too.” She untangled herself from his arms before giving him a peck on the side of his mouth. 

“Goodnight Clara.” 

“Night, Doctor.” She said softly as she disappeared down the same corridor she came from before in a perfunctory manner. She let out a pent up breath. The Doctor and she had always shared those kinds of kisses; chaste and simple, they never meant anything though. Did they? She shrugged and kept walking until she reached her door. Rose’s door was still a few down from hers and Clara wondered bitterly if the past Doctor was there again. Sighing she walked into her room. 

Her hair was full of snarls and knots. She guessed it looked awful. 

In one of the bathroom drawers she found a black hairbrush like hers at home; it looked clean so Clara made her way back to the bed and sat running it through her hair. When about half of her head was done there was a knock at the door. Curious, she set the brush on the nightstand and went to the door. It opened to the pacing form of her Doctor. He stopped and shoved his hands in his pockets before taking them out again. Clara looked at him expectantly. 

“U-um, that apology was rubbish. I thought of a better one,” he took in a breath, “Clara I’m sorry that I drug you into this. I’m sorry you had to run into my timeline and for getting so angry.” He finished and Clara was stunned. She had thought the first apology was fine. The Doctor looked like a kicked puppy standing in her door though. What was it that Rose had said about her and him? Something about telling him first she thought…or maybe Clara had said that once. Whoever had said it didn’t matter now. Overwhelmed by a single compulsion, nothing mattered except it. She had one task and it was going to take everything she had to do it. 

“Just kiss me, Chin Boy,” she chuckled and pulled him closed by his tuxedo lapels. The latter gave a surprised sound and fell against her lips. Clara pulled herself closer and smiled against his mouth. She could help but inwardly laugh at his hands, which flapped helplessly at their sides. When they pulled away from each other his eyes were wide. 

“You kissed me!” he breathed. 

“Yeah and you blushed!” she shot back. To Clara’s immediate surprise, the Doctor drew his hands around her waist to pull her a fraction closer. “You never said anything!” 

“I needed to?” 

“Just shut up and kiss me again.” 

Again they closed the tension between them and drew together again. This time, she felt him press harder, faster. After dancing around each other for so long they hungrily lapped up the moment. Clara ran her palms down his chest and explored the new feeling. A pang went through her mind and fizzled down through the rest of her body. The heat burned through her veins and fed off of the unfulfilled desires. The kisses traveled down the Doctor’s jaw and became more deliberate with each move and breath. Her hands knotted in the cotton as she traveled down. Suddenly it felt like too much; the jacket, and the silk—too much. Clara dragged her hands up and fumbled with the jacket. Thankfully it was unbuttoned and shucked easily off. 

The Doctor’s hands were warm as they traveled up and down her back. He had been moving them in slow circles around her lower back and had made it successfully underneath the cool fabric and to her feverish skin. The circles suddenly stopped as Clara felt her feet disappear out from under her. Instinctively she slung them around his waist, aching to be closer. The definition of the hips was sculpted and pleasurably grinded into her flesh. Temporarily forgetting about them, she shifted so she could begin to unbutton his shirt while he carefully walked further into her room. Deeper kisses made their way to her mouth again. She could feel his skin flare up where her fingertips touched. The Doctor gave a groan in pleasure as the last button came undone. Her hands sent lightning pulses through his body and grew to a storm. It was bright white with passion and flared orange as Clara’s hands harshly pushed the shirt off his shoulders. 

As he came to the unmade bed, the Time Lord spun so he could sit at its’ foot. With Clara in his lap, he hastily released her and shrugged off the white button down. She also felt the storm; it brewed and coiled low in her stomach and forced its way through her pores. The thunder rumbled and forced its way up as his slim fingers drew up the hem of her shirt. She tried to hold her eagerness back and bit his lip playfully. Her partner took little to no notice at her half-naked state except to pull her closer. The sweat slicked skin slid with ease when Doctor’s hands slipped down her form. As soon as her lips had parted; tongues and teeth met in the heat of it. Clara allowed her hands to run red streaks down his muscled arms and down to the Doctor’s belt. She heard him moan into her neck. His hands had made it to her hair and carded through it in a surge. Clara’s quick fingers undid the offending belt with a dull ring. She felt him pull back slightly to look at her face. His lean hands slid down to her forearms. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he panted heavily and laid his forehead against hers. 

“Yes.” Clara whispered in return and worked at the waistband of his pants. The heat of his hands was at her shoulder blades as he pressed gentle kisses along her shoulders. The Doctor felt the storm burst as he pulled Clara down on the mattress with him. The latter let out a squeak and rushed to pull the fabric off his body. As she did so, his fingertips danced and shot bolts of fire through her mind in their wake. They raced down to her waistband and pulled it down harshly. In response her hands pulled the last two layers off. With startling speed Clara felt the Doctor flip them over so his full weight pressed against her. The bare skin against one another fueled the sticky sweet fireworks that exploded between them as Clara explored the new untouched skin. Clara was caught in the storm and numbly registered his pelvis sinking low and pulsing against hers. The hair that had been carefully brushed earlier was mussed and rucked through in the fray. The same could be said about the Doctor’s, however, after being raked through by Clara. Their frenzy had picked up; Clara let out small groans as his lips made dark splotches up her throat and back up to meet her mouth. She sighed into them and felt the passion rip through her body and take over. It poured into a rush and through her partner. He shifted and allowed his body to push harder in time with hers until he heard her muffled scream. 

Slowly, the Doctor eased out of Clara’s tight hold, still pressing ghosts of kisses against her skin. They flipped onto their sides and panted in silence and waited for their hearts to stop racing. 

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are, Clara Oswald?” he asked her breathlessly and gathered up the sheets around himself. Clara glanced over, surprised. 

“…No?” she panted. 

He grinned like a five year old, “Well now I did, besides the fact that your nose is still all funny.” 

Unconsciously, he pulled Clara against him once more and for the first time in two weeks, fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the positive feedback! As for the chapter this is possibly the weakest smut ever written.


	8. Chapter 8

Two in the morning and the Doctor was already regretting his decisions. Not the fact that he’d slept longer than usual or that he’d probably never wear that tuxedo again. Clara was curled against his body—naked body. He hadn’t meant for it to go that far, really. He thought he would just apologize again and then be on his merry way; nothing could be simple though. 

When he’d first woke up, the Doctor soaked up the pleasure of waking up and finding someone else next to him again; until the realization sunk in when his eyes darted around the room. Their clothes had been thrown carelessly around the room in wrinkled piles and half of the sheets were pulled off the mattress. In the fray, a few things had been knocked out of place and also cluttered the floor; the bedside lamp was still on and bathing the room in a soft weathered yellow. The same yellow of the Consul Room. That shade always reminded him of books with their yellowed-with-age look and musty feel but, paired with the wreckage of their eventful night it looked sinister. It was almost trying to point out his guilt. 

Sure, he liked Clara—maybe more than a friend but this felt wrong. It shouldn’t have ended up like this. Emotions were such delicate things and this surely would put a damper in the relationship. The Doctor wrestled with the idea of leaving her and let it be a memory they both shoved to the back of their minds. He cast a look back to her sleeping form and silently kicked himself; the Time Lord wouldn’t do that and he knew it. His hand raked through his sweaty hair angrily. It looked like the Doctor was just going to have to own up to this one. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, he reached over and shut the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. Out of sight out of mind, he thought. Clara shifted at the sudden movement and snuggled closer to his chest. 

“Go back to sleep, Doctor,” she mumbled almost inaudibly. He bit his lip and slunk back down to his former position. The guilty minded Time Lord felt his partner’s warm breath even back out against his bare skin before huffing once more and flopped back on the pillows. Judging by how long she normally slept, he was going to be here a while. Well another six hours at the least. What would he even say when she woke up? And Rose; what would Rose say if she found out? 

The Doctor silently sent out a plea to the TARDIS to move Clara’s door further from hers and closer to his. Her humming increased and he felt her shift the rooms with no complaining. Breathing a sigh of relief he tugged at sheets and pulled them around his shoulders. Then resting his chin on the top of her head, he waited for Clara to wake up.

*~*

When Clara woke there was a strange feeling that followed. The sheets were warmer than usual not just warm they…moved? Her eyes popped open. The room was pitch, which was funny because she didn’t remember turning off the lights. Wait, that’s right the Doctor had done that, she thought. Inhaling deeply she melted back into the pillows and shut her eyes once more. Hold on, the Doctor; slowly the events of the previous night fell back into place. Clara quickly sat up. The lights, in fact, were on but just dimmed slightly so the pitch must have been the Doctor. He lounged in the space beside her with a guilty look and a pout on his lips. His normally well-kept hair was a fluffy dark mop half plastered to his scalp and to her terror was naked. The sheets had puddled around her waist and she quickly yanked them around her bare skin. The Doctor watched her in silence and gathered his arms behind his head and leaned against the wall. 

“Would it be too much to say good morning?” he asked timidly. Clara’s jaw dropped and she slapped him. He let out a groan. 

“Yes!” she shouted. The Doctor curled in on himself and gingerly touched the forming handprint.

“That hurt!” he pouted and gave her a wounded look. Mirroring her position, he sat up. “What was that for?” 

“I think you know!” Clara said, poking him in the chest to further her point. He bit his lip and refused to meet her gaze. 

She allowed her dark eyes to travel down once. Last night she was too distracted to fully appreciate his lean muscles but, now Clara could view it fully. His body was built like a runner’s would be with the slight bulges of taunt muscle and well defined hips that disappeared under the pool of the sheet. Flush crept up her neck. She shook her head; what was she doing? Focus, she told herself. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and cradled her face with his hands. Clara flinched and pulled back. 

“Please just go, Doctor,” she said and bristled. Her partner’s face dropped and she watched as he slid off the bed and gathered his rumpled clothes. Hastily pulling on his pants, he unlocked her door and left with a sad look. Clara shuttered; what was she thinking? She toppled back and stared at the shadowed ceiling. That had been a mistake; they were friends, what had driven them to sleeping with each other? Clara forced herself to sit up again. Her body was sore, like when you ran without stretching. A grunt escaped her lips when she stood and walked towards the bathroom, not even caring to put something on. In the mirror, peering back at her were angry love bites trailing up her neck; more reminders from the night before. With shaking hands, the shower was flipped to full blast. Even if Clara couldn’t wash out the memory, she could sure as hell try to wash off the feel of his body against hers. 

Liberally she scrubbed her greasy hair twice—just in case. In addition to that, vanilla body wash wicked away the dried sweat and after a half an hour Clara felt like the night had been washed away. At least until she came out of her room, of course. The blue dress was hung delicately on the bathroom doorknob and she swiped it off its hanger and threw it on. 

She glanced in the mirror once again and checked to make sure the high collar hid the red marks. Satisfied at what she saw, Clara headed out. Exiting the bathroom, she passed the still rumpled bed. Despite herself, Clara grinned. Those first few moments waking up next to the Doctor were brilliant. For once she had felt rested and completely relaxed. She knew he didn’t need a lot of sleep; it was sweet that he’d stayed. Maybe slapping him was a little harsh and the look he’d given her. He’d looked dazed when she’d done it. 

Clara bit her lip. So maybe it was rather rude to get so angry at him after all, it wasn’t the Doctor’s fault. She had told him to kiss her. Abandoning her room, Clara made her way towards the kitchen for what felt like the millionth time. When she came into the room, the pinstriped Doctor sat reading a book at the wooden table. He was dressed in the same brown pinstriped suit and his glasses perched smartly on the bridge of his nose. 

“Good morning,” he said without looking up from his reading. Clara was a surprised that he’d even heard her come in because she was sure that her footsteps hadn’t been that loud. 

“Good morning,” she replied and plopped into the chair next to him. Her stomach was churning and if she drank tea like this, it might not stay down. Her bedside clock had said seven thirty; that meant Clara had slept a whole twelve hours. Well she wouldn’t be sleeping right for a few days, that was for sure. The book shut with a dull thump; Clara jumped. She felt the other’s lingering gaze bore into her skin; her eyes forced themselves to look up. 

“What?” Clara asked. 

“I said are you hungry?” he rose out of his chair and began darting around the kitchen, opening cabinets and cupboards looking for ingredients. “What do you normally eat—no wait today it’ll be something new!” Clara couldn't help but grin at his joy and watched as he pulled together whatever it was for breakfast. He busied himself in fishing for the proper ingredients for nearly ten minutes before actually starting to make it while she tried to push the awful feeling growing in her stomach. 

“Oi, where did you leave the wormhole refractors—I need them,” the bow-tie Doctor’s voice filtered through the doorway. Clara felt the lump in her throat twist; she cast her eyes away from his voice. Despite herself, she snuck a look shortly after. The Doctor stood impatiently in the doorway of the kitchen in the same ensemble as the past few days with the exception of his hair fixed but still sticking up in a few places. He blanched when he saw Clara and attempted to keep a straight face. 

“Below the consul,” the past Doctor called over his shoulder. 

“Right,” the latter said hastily and turned to jog away. 

“Are you sticking around for breakfast; the wormhole refractors can wait you know!” a new voice chimed in. Clara followed the sound to the bar where Rose sat, swinging her legs. Her hair looked damp and the clothes identical as the last time she had seen her and the ever present thick black makeup continued to coat her lashes. She had an expectant smile on her face as if she knew he would come back in and to Clara’s surprise, the Doctor tromped back and plopped on a bar stool next to her.

The Doctor didn’t do domestic and yet here he was before Clara, being ordered like a child. 

“Actually they’re very important to getting back to the TARDIS without causing a paradox,” his other self chirped. Rose made a face in his direction. “You’re up early, Rose.” 

“No thanks to you, knocking about like I would have your screwdriver at seven in the morning,” she glowered. He grinned cheekily and pulled out something from the oven. From what Clara could see, her Doctor had been working on getting them back home since she had kicked him out earlier in the morning. She kicked herself; there she went, thinking about it again. The Doctor hadn’t as so much glanced her way since he’d been ordered to stick around for breakfast. She really couldn’t blame him; there was a red outline of a handprint on his cheek that was still noticeable. Hopefully nobody asked about it. Sadly she spoke too soon. 

“What happened to your face, Doctor?” Rose gestured to her cheek. The Doctor covered it with a hand, flushing and shot a quick look at Clara. 

“I-um… slammed into something this morning. Come to think of it, I don’t know exactly what it was.” He said shakily. Rose took the answer with a slow nod and a condescending look. 

“You tripped on the catwalk again, didn’t you?” she said sweetly. The past Doctor snapped around. 

“That was one time!” he whined. He took down four plates and teacups and set them in stacks next to Clara before making his way back into the kitchen. She didn’t think he expected her to set the table but, from working as a nanny for so long it was a reflexive thing. Plus she really needed a distraction. So she set the table to the best of her abilities, pushing the memory of the lingering mark she’d left on the Doctor’s skin while her churning stomach finally settled down. Not to mention the marks he’d left on her. She was silently sending praises that the dress she had chosen had a high collar or else breakfast would be on a different level of awkward. 

When Clara had finished the past Doctor placed breakfast on the table. She did a double take. 

“Is this…quiche?” she called as he walked back to grab the kettle. 

“It is!” he exclaimed happily and gestured for everyone to take a seat. Rose giggled and gratefully took a seat next to him and the bow-tie Doctor on her other side. Clara didn’t miss the glances he took at her as she took the last seat available. 

They chatted peacefully through breakfast without any other hitches in the conversation. The quiche was excellent and the Doctor was buried in complements that made him grin knowingly and everyone else to roll their eyes. Even with all of the laughing and teasing, Clara was still holding her breath. Last night’s mistake was seared into the front of her memory and the lingering handprint on the Doctor’s cheek wasn’t making her feel any better about it. The past Doctor and Rose cleared away the dishes, seemingly not noticing the tension and if they did, neither mentioned it.

But one of them must have sensed something was off because they quickly cleared out of the kitchen babbling about going back to work on the way back home promptly leaving the both of them alone once more. Clara adverted her eyes away from him in shame; her hands kneaded the skirt of her dress nervously. She felt utterly horrible about slapping the Doctor. After all, it was his fault that’d he’d stayed until she had finally woke up. Clara desperately wanted to bolt but she knew if she didn’t face it now, things would never be the same between them. 

She felt his weary eyes trace her every move, attempting to get a read on her. He took a sharp intake of breath but swallowed the words. Just out of her line of sight, Clara felt him start to fidget; she knew how desperately he wanted to explain himself. Taking a moment to collect her courage, Clara turned to face the pacing man behind her. Immediately the Doctor stopped. 

“Wait,” she stuck a hand out to silence him, “before you say anything I wanted to say I’m sorry…for slapping you. That was wrong.” She watched the riptide of hidden emotions flash across his eyes as he fought with himself. 

“I don’t blame you for it Clara,” the Doctor finally said with calculated precision. The words weren’t meant to be hurtful but they still stung her. Like he’d almost blamed himself—no doubt he probably did, that idiot. Always wanting the blame, that one, Clara thought to herself. She reached for his wrist. 

“No Doctor, I’m sorry; about overreacting, about kicking you out, about slapping you, about…about…” the words died in her throat as his green eyes meant her brown ones. The tight ball of guilt finally found refuge once again in her stomach and twisted it around until she almost felt sick. A warm hand gently cupped her chin and forced Clara to look up. The Doctor looked torn as he bit his lip and worked his jaw like an anxious dog. 

“Hey it’s alright—look at me—we’re alright. Things don’t have to change between us if you don’t want them to; it was an accident,” he spoke so softly she almost couldn’t hear him. Clara leaned into the heat of his palm and closed her eyes briefly. 

“Do you really care for me, Doctor or am I just someone who reminds you of Rose?” A gasp erupted from her counterpart and a second hand joined her left cheek. She felt the Doctor slide in closer. 

“Of course not; why ever would you think that? Clara, I’ve never met someone who wasn’t important but, how could I not care for you? While I do care for Rose I would never compare the two of you. Both of you are special in your own ways and that’s more than I could ever ask for.” 

Clara felt her eyes start to well up from under her eyelids. She screwed them shut but a few leaked out and streamed down to the Doctor’s slim fingers. His thumbs calmly wicked them away. She wanted to stop; it was so embarrassing to be crying in front of him again for something so petty but once the first one fell it burst the dam. Tears streaked down her cheeks, most certainly blotting them with ugly feverish red spots. Clara buried her face into his shoulder trying to hide them. They dripped off her chin soaked into the dusty fabric. Her arms slipped desperately around his neck. It was so stupid she thought; she didn’t even know what she was crying about as she felt the Doctor’s comforting arms slip around her shaking form and lift her off the ground. He drew calming circles down her back as they clung together.

The peace didn't last long, however. She felt trapped against his body, tangled in his arms. Clara was suffocating, she couldn’t go through this again—all of this fighting and the flimsy making up. It really seemed to mean nothing to the Doctor if it meant her running back to him in the end and if that’s how their relationship was ever going to be she wasn’t standing by it. Her legs dangled uselessly an inch above the ground as they tried to wiggle their way free. 

“What—Clara?” the Doctor asked tiredly. Clara pushed herself off his chest and struggled in his grip. He released her in disbelief. She shoved him away and gasped for air; the steady lines of dried tear tracks painted her cheeks. Her chest heaved and Clara stared at the Doctor in blind panic. His face mirrored much of hers with a confused look. 

“Doctor…I’m sorry,” she brushed past him without a second glance, “But I just can’t right now.” Clara didn’t have the heart to turn back and see his wounded look; she trudged down the dim hall of the TARDIS before bursting into tears again. Heavy footsteps echoed behind her. A heavy grasp caught her shoulder and pulled her to a halting stop. Before she knew what happened, the world spun until it settled on the last person she wanted to see. 

“I want you to talk to me, Clara; please I—just I can’t—“ he sputtered and the tight grip loosened, “I don’t want you to be upset because of me.” 

Clara’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m not upset because of you it’s just these past few days have been,” she paused trying to form the right words, “…insane. This morning was just icing on the cake.” The Doctor’s face released some of its tension and his hand slid off her shoulder. He offered her a sad smile. 

“I know and I’m so proud of you for handling this so well.” He drew a tissue out of a hidden pocket and held it out with a familiar flourish. Clara took it slowly and began mopping up the remaining tears. The air between them had settled back to a dull hum and the TARDIS itself seemed to be more at ease. She gave him a small smile and he returned it with an embarrassed shrug. 

“This might be a bad time but,” the Doctor flushed and fidgeted in place, “I really do enjoy kissing you.” Clara let out a watery laugh. Her smile broadened as she carded her fingers through her hair. 

“You’re unbelievable,” she exclaimed. Despite the comment her hand cupped his cheek and leaned up to plant a soft peck on the other. She felt his grin spread across his lips; when Clara pulled away his eyes softened. 

“But that’s alright; I like kissing you too,” she whispered. The Doctor’s face lit up. 

“As much as I’d love to stick around, Clara, I have a paradox to fix.” He said. Clara began down the same hallway they had run down not ten minutes before. Her smile was plastered on her face and it felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders. Maybe that night wasn’t so bad after all; like the Doctor said it was just an accident. The light footsteps of the Doctor’s lanky strides trailed behind her as she skipped towards the Consul Room.


	9. Chapter 9

It had been a whirlwind the past few days and tinkering with the TARDIS with the Doctor was relaxing. Music poured out of the sound system and filled the room with cheery rhythms. Rose lounged on the floor next to the intergalactic toolbox. The Doctor was sprawled out contently next to her. 

“Hand me that monkey wrench,” he said and his hand appeared from the shadows. Rose picked out the wrench and placed it in the Doctor’s outstretched hand. 

“Why do you need this; does the sonic not have a setting for fixing the TARDIS?” She grinned playfully and shifted to lie on her stomach swinging her feet behind her. The Doctor slid from his spot underneath the consul and smirked up at her. 

“Well it does, however; sometimes the sonic doesn’t do bolts well,” he paused thoughtfully, “After all it’s a screwdriver.” A giggle erupted from his body as she began to roll her caramel colored eyes. Rose gave his leg a swat before he could see the smile that crawled up her lips. 

“I know you’re smiling, Rose don’t try to deny it,” he teased. His remark made her smile brighter. She basked in the yellow tinted light and listened to the pounding of the bass. 

Footsteps sounded down the corridor as the Doctor reached for the warp drive. Clara’s face swam out of the shadows with the future Doctor in tow.

 

*~*

 

Clara heard the music even before she reached the Consul Room. She glanced over her shoulder at the Doctor. He peered back at her, the softness in his eyes returning. She stepped in time with the beat as her footsteps danced down the hallway. 

“Muse!” Clara heard the Doctor call behind her. 

She spun back to face him fully and replied, “What?” The Doctor strode up alongside her. 

“The group; it’s called Muse. The one thing all of the people I’ve traveled with seem to agree on,” he mused. She grinned thoughtfully and listened for the rest of the song to come together. The breathy vocals came into focus as she continued to tromp down the hall but, when she finally came to music’s source, she was surprised. Rose was carelessly resting on her stomach on the floor with her face propped up with her hand. The other hand was fishing out something from the toolbox that sat in front of her. She gossiped to the past Doctor—who took a tool from her free hand—as he continued to work on the underside of the consul. His chipper voice was muffled but, Clara could still make out a few of his words. 

“—Chips and you know what she said?” he chattered. 

“What?” Rose giggled. The pinstriped Doctor sat up from his spot giving her an enthusiastic grin. 

“That’s not my sister but, we’ll take two!” the Time Lord barked. They both fell into peels of laughter. 

Clara stood in the doorframe awkwardly until she was shoved through. A yelp escaped her lips and stumbled to regain her footing. 

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn't see that you stopped, are you alright, Clara?” her Doctor called. He sprawled into the Consul Room behind her. Rose and the past Doctor began laughing even harder. With more caution than before, Clara continued making her way to the ratty jumpseat. 

“I’m fine,” she reassured him over the sound of the other two’s chortles.

Quickly their laughter dispersed when the past Doctor slid out from underneath the consul. 

The other Time Lord towered over him from his new spot next to the lounging blonde; his eyes lingering on the toothy smile that spread across her face. Clara thought it almost felt normal, just a couple mates hanging out and sharing a laugh, she thought. Well a couple mates sharing a laugh on a space ship. The spikey haired man pounced back onto his feet and then extended a hand to Rose, who gladly accepted. 

“Now,” he began, “That should do it. All that’s left is to do some careful improvising and we should be back to the correct time stream in two shakes.” To solidify his point, the past Doctor slammed down on a button. Clara heard the sound of a lever being pulled and looked over to find the Doctor flittering around the machine like a hummingbird. Announcing that there was nothing she could do to stop them now, Rose skipped energetically to sit next to Clara.

Just then, the lights went out. 

“Is this supposed to happen, then?” Clara implored to the other occupants. The shuffling of feet filled the air. 

“Um…not really sure,” the utter of the Doctor came, “Maybe if I hit this…” There was a sharp clash of metal against metal followed by the sound of the sonic and just as quickly as the lights had gone out, they hummed back to life. 

“Ah, there we go!” exclaimed the past Doctor, mirroring the other man’s glee. 

Rose turned to Clara, “You might want to hold on,” she said and clutched a bar tightly. Clara scrambled to grab onto something large and solid before the TARDIS shuttered and tremored. The ever-present humming increased to a dull roar as they picked up speed. It spun through the Time Vortex at a dizzying speed and whipped its passengers in all directions. Lights flashed and glass shattered until finally, it skidded to a jerky halt. 

Clara waited for the room to stop turning before she even thought of letting go of the edge of the jumpseat she found herself latched on to. Stars swam past her line of vision, clouding her view of the rest of the crew. A moan escaped the lips of the woman beside her as Clara heard Rose slide further down into the worn upholstery. Apparently she hadn’t been the only one affected by their trip. Fighting the feeling of nausea, her brown eyes screwed shut. The shill sound of the TARDIS door creaking open made squeeze them even tighter. Clara felt like she might be ill. Her stomach was churning and it felt like breakfast was fighting its way back up her throat. The metallic taste coated her tongue was not helping the case either. It felt like she had just gorged on a handful of pennies. Maybe she if she could just lay down it would soothe her stomach, Clara thought. Slowly, her eyes opened to find the room no longer spinning. Rose was shakily making her way to her feet but the Doctors were nowhere in sight. They must’ve stepped out, Clara concluded. She swung her legs over the seat, ready to stand. The sudden movement brought back her nausea with a sharp stab to her abdomen. The taste increased as Clara’s mouth flooded with saliva. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she gulped to Rose and ran to the door. Bursting through the door, she narrowly missed a pair of familiar shoes as she expelled the contents of her stomach on the polished granite floor. Clara’s legs wobbled as she retched up bile and what little she had eaten in the past few days. A pair of cool hands had pulled her hair away from her face at one point during the ordeal. Another hand was massaging calm circles on her shoulder while she finished dry-heaving. When nothing else would come, someone pulled her back into a sitting position. 

Three concerned faces came into her field of vision. One of them handed her a cloth to wipe her mouth. 

“Are you alright, Clara?” the Doctor’s voice echoed through her ears, causing her to wince. He sounded like he was underwater. The faces were starting to meld together into one unrecognizable shape. Clara could only groan in protest. A fuzzy hand finally brings her back into reality with a loud snap. 

“Can you hear us?” Rose’s concerned voice called out. The shapes in Clara’s eyes come back into focus. She saw the worried sad eyes of the Doctor, the questioning brown ones of his past self, and Rose’s concerned amber eyes all staring at her ill form. Her hands tightened around the cloth pressed to her mouth. 

“I—yeah; sorry, I don’t know what happened,” stammered Clara. The Doctor heaved her to her feet and threw an arm around her shoulders for support. 

“Hm, it could have been something that didn’t agree with you, the TARDIS going through the Void, anything really. I bet you’ll be alright.” The past Doctor rambled from behind her. 

The Doctor shuffled her weight around, “Right, well then; we better get you back home so we can patch you up, eh Clara?” His eyes darted to the blonde, “Could you…?” he motioned for his past self to hold up Clara and then trotted over to Rose. “It was…fantastic to see you once more Rose Tyler. I—no, that’s all; this isn’t goodbye, its’ simply farewell, right?” 

“So that’s it then? When you leave things go back to normal, I mean everything resets? Nobody remembers anything?” Rose questions. 

“Yes, that would be the case.” 

“Then, it was good to see you, Doctor,” she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a tight squeeze. Clara watched in muted interest as the Doctor returned his old companion’s embrace and planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head. His old sad eyes flashed with longing when Rose pulled away. Her eyes lingered on the Doctor’s as they separated and gave him one last hopeful smile. Clara heard the past Doctor murmur his goodbyes to her as she was carefully passed back to the bow-tied one. And with one final glance on the Doctors past, he began to pull Clara back in the direction of his TARDIS. They walked slowly to keep Clara’s stomach settled. When the wooden doors opened, the shrill sound no longer pierced her ears as it had before. The Doctor softly lowered her to the floor, closed the doors, set the TARDIS to its next location, and with a tired sigh he pulled the lever. 

The memories of Clara’s endless questions about the Doctor’s strange past slowly started draining away. She could no longer remember the taste of how Rose had made her tea a little too sweet for her liking or feel the borrowed silk against her skin. Then the sound of an unfamiliar laugh melded together with the text from a book long forgotten by its too passionate owners.

Red hot embarrassment that flooded her veins spilled over the memory of a ghost of a slap; lust the color of the mistake made the night before, crashed together in an ocean of sorrow. The memories of a forgotten adventure slid out of Clara’s mind. Its only remaining trace was the last true feeling of ecstasy in the form of a torn red dress. And even that washed away when her eyelids drooped closed, never to visit the happening again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost finished, just one chapter to go!


	10. Epilogue

“Rose?” The Doctor questioned quietly. His hands riffled through his pockets until he felt the velvet box brush past his fingertips. Rose poked her head through the doorway of her room in confusion. 

“Yeah, Doctor?” 

The Time Lord felt his hands shake. He hadn’t remembered what compelled him to tromp down to her room and call out her name. There she was though, standing there looking so flawless, so…pink and yellow. He gulped. The Doctor’s nimble fingers ran over the box’s soft surface. He had to ask her. Preparing for the worst he took one step closer; Rose gave him a lopsided smile. 

“I…wi—“ he shook his head, both of his hearts beating out of his chest, “Have you figured out where you want to go next?” he bit out. The Doctor silently kicked himself. Damn it! He thought; after rehearsing the entire walk to her he couldn’t get out those four words. Copping out again! He sighed, let go of the black box once more, and withdrew his hand. 

Rose, missing his nervousness, pulled him in close. Her arms slung around his neck and his hands falling familiarly to her waist. He felt the warmth of her light blue sweater radiate off of the warm fabric. 

“Do you think we could stop by Earth? You know to see Mum again? I feel like we’re starting to visit less and less now,” Rose drew on guiltily. The Doctor knew that she felt guilty for leaving her mum stuck wondering when she was coming back. Even if he wasn’t the biggest fan of Jackie Tyler, it made Rose happy to visit her more often than not. He rested his chin on the top of her golden head. 

“Oh I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” he mustered. 

Rose squealed in delight and reached up on her toes to plant a peck on his lips. With one last hug she released the Time Lord and hurried back into her room to pack. Her happiness was contagious as he watched her buzz excitedly around the room throwing items into her bags. The Doctor felt a grin touch his own lips. 

“Just come down to the Consul Room when you’re ready, alright?” he hollered as he headed back down the hall. 

Maybe after they visited Jackie he would finally utter those four words. Work up the courage to ask Rose. Ask her a question she could answer and never have to stop answering. Maybe then he could tell Rose Tyler just how much he loved her. 

*~*

“Doctor?” Clara asked. The Time Lord looked up from his place at the consul before quickly glancing back down. 

“Hmm?” he mumbled, focused on the monitor. Clara took a step closer to him, her legs screaming in protest. She felt awful. 

“Could you…” she restarted, “Do you mind taking me home?” 

The Doctor glanced up in confusion. He pushed the monitor out of the way and put his hands on her shoulders protectively. Glancing down at her, he gave her a worried look. 

“Are you okay,” he implored with a stern look. 

Clara allowed the corners of her mouth to turn up. “I think I might be a little sick.” 

“Okay.” The Doctor gave her one last look over before typing in her apartment coordinates. Clara could feel her stomach churn with every turn through the Vortex the box made. She stumbled when it took an especially sharp turn; instead of meeting metal she met something warm and solid. The blush rose to her cheeks when she realized the Doctor had caught her. She could feel the toughness of his stomach and the lightly defined muscles of his arms even through all of his layers. It made her blush harder. She mumbled her thanks as he heaved her back up. 

When they felt the TARDIS land, Clara turned to say her goodbyes and found the Time Lord following right behind her. 

Curious she blurted, “Doctor, where are you going?” Immediately hating her bluntness, Clara pressed her lips together. Although, it didn’t seem to faze him when he responded, 

“Being alone while you’re sick is no fun, right? Can I come in and keep you company? Don’t worry you won’t get me sick; superior biology and all.” He gestured wildly with his hands to make his point. With a grin, Clara beckoned the Doctor to come with her. They plodded up to her apartment and chatted about their next destination. When they came to a stop at her door, Clara took out a silver key and unlocked her door. She gestured for him to go in. 

“Sit anywhere, I’m just going to throw on something else,” she told him absently as she made her way to her room to change into pajamas. 

It was so weird, she thought, having him in her apartment, sitting on her couch, drinking her tea. It was so…normal. The Doctor didn’t do normal. Clara pondered the thought while she threw on sweat pants and a clean t-shirt and eventually made her way back into the front room. To her surprise she came back to the Doctor sitting on her couch, already mixing copious amounts of sugar into his teacup. Wait, teacup? She hadn’t left tea out. Clara stepped further into the room to find the tea tray flooded with cookies and hot tea, along with what looked like soup. The Doctor, upon closer inspection, had flung his tweed coat over a kitchen chair so that he remained in his waistcoat. He’d even thrown a few of her more uncomfortable throw pillows off the couch and onto an armchair. A blanket was pooling around his waist. 

As if sensing her, the Doctor turned and motioned for her to sit. Something niggled at the back of her mind, like déjà vu but she quickly dismissed it. Clara slid down on the open spot next to him. 

“What’s this?” she asked him. The Doctor grin stretched broader and handed her a teacup and pulled the blanket over her lap. 

“Like I said, it’s no fun being sick alone,” he chirped. 

Clara gave him a timid grin and shifted her weight to lean against his shoulder. “Thanks, Doctor.” He hummed an approval. 

The Doctor ended up staying much longer than intended. When they got immersed in conversation the hours flew by. The tea and soup turned cold and the cookies were all eaten. The sky shifted from blue, to pink, to purple, and finally to black. And Clara’s eyes began fall shut; but through it all, the Doctor had remained. When the intervals between her answers became minutes, he pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and let Clara fall into a peaceful slumber against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm apologizing ahead of time for so much more drama to come. Please comment and give kudos if you enjoyed, thanks!


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